


Iron and Magic

by Maisey2k10



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Humour, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:15:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 94,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26149309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maisey2k10/pseuds/Maisey2k10
Summary: When Hermione’s contract with SHIELD is sold to Stark Industries and she’s traded like she’s prized cattle, she is far from pleased. But then, she meets the notorious man for herself and she finds herself thinking that perhaps, it wasn’t all that bad a trade. Post-War! Post Iron Man 2. Hermione Granger x Tony Stark pairing! Rated for language, violence and sexual content! Writing in Progress!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Tony Stark
Comments: 98
Kudos: 256





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All original characters and canon events belong to J.K. Rowling and Marvel. Non-canon events and characters are my own. I am not making any profit from posting this fanfic. Characters are likely to be OOC. This takes place after Iron Man 2 and I will be taking some liberties with the timeline/canon events. Rated for language, violence and sexual content.
> 
> Page count: 9

“Dr. Granger?”

Hermione looked up and away from the alien technology she was examining, well, actually, she had determined it to be a magically charmed sword that had rusted over time and began to corrode and it was completely harmless despite the faint magical aura that still surrounded it.

“Director,” she greeted the eye-patch wearing man as he entered her lab.

Only few knew she existed, even fewer knew where her lab was located for security reasons, and only three of those had the access code, herself, Agent Phil Coulson and Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD.

“Do you have another item you wish me to examine?” She asked, moving away from the workbench and pocketing her wand into her lab coat.

“No, you are being reassigned,” he replied, his expression blank, his tone exceptionally calm and free of emotion. Nick Fury was a hard man to read, but if one spends enough time searching, the ticks were clear. A slight twitch of the eye, a blink that was faster than usual, the tensing of his shoulders, the pulsing of the vein in his neck.

“Excuse me?” Her voice rose in pitch.

“You are being reassigned,” he repeated.

He shifted his hand closer to his holster where his weapon was stored upon the notice that she was calm, _too_ calm. That was, until, golden sparks zinged through her hair like an electric current, her curls frizzing into a bushy mess that resembled her earlier school years, and her body straightened and stiffened.

“Excuse me?” She repeated, her voice dramatically lower, her kind eyes turning cold and deadly.

“You have been a remarkable asset to SHIELD and now, you are to be given a new assignment. You will no longer be aligned with SHIELD, on paper, at least. Your _contract_ has been sold and you are now expected to report to another.”

“And _who_ exactly is that?” She seethed, her eyes hardening into a narrowed glare and her hands clenching into fists, fighting the urge to draw her wand.

“Tony Stark.”

He observed her closely. She was quiet and stiff until her wand was in her hand and the floor to ceiling glass windows of her lab, separating the room and corridor, were slammed by a pulse of magic, shattering into thousands of pieces and covering the ground.

Fury barely held in the sigh and roll of his eye. That was going to take hours to clean up and repair, something he knew she wouldn’t help with, even if she was the cause of it. She was furious and he could sympathise, he wouldn’t wish to be in the same building as Stark either, let alone work under him for an obscene amount of time, but they all had to make sacrifices. Admittedly, Dr. Granger was a truly remarkable asset, one he didn’t wish to lose but his hands were tied. He _hated_ politics.

Stark had offered a donation that couldn’t be refused. If they gave him Dr. Granger, he would share his cloaking technology with SHIELD, something his tech experts had been working to develop for over three years, and of course, Stark had done so in as little as a month. It was irritating how clever he was.

He’d been prepared for her angry response, the brunette being known to have quite the impressive temper on her to rival the Hulk, and whilst he was glad she hadn’t conjured those little yellow birds of hers to attack him, (something he’d seen happen on more than one occasion and silently admitted was quite entertaining) he did think her response of shattering the windows to be a little childish. Did he voice that? No, he wasn’t Agent Barton. He had a brain, unlike the archer who seemed to enjoy getting a rise out of the witch, no matter of the consequence and hex it brought him in the process. Agent Romanoff was hard-pressed to keep her best friend alive and he didn’t envy the deadly assassin.

“Dr. Granger, what do you know of the Avengers Initiative?” He questioned, his one eye tracking the movement of her irritably pacing her lab back and forth.

She halted in her steps, twisting to face him, her hands settling on her hips. He’d seen this stance more than once. If he weren’t careful, he’d find himself receiving a lengthy speech. He took comfort in the fact her foot had yet to start tapping.

“A carefully selected group of individuals with incredible abilities, skills and technology, that will protect the Earth from any that try to harm it and its occupants. And my answer is no.”

“Sorry?” He tipped his head innocently, applying all of the tactics he’d learned in order to appear genuinely confused.

She wasn’t fooled. _Damn her_ , he thought. Annoyingly, she was exactly like Stark in the way that she was too clever for her own good. She saw things others didn’t, she saw the things his Agents were specifically trained to notice when they didn’t. She could sniff out a lie like a damn drug detection dog.

“No,” she said firmly. “I’ve fought enough battles and wars in my childhood and I barely survived. I lost many a friend, ally and peer, and I lost family, too. I’m done fighting. I don’t wish to be an Avenger.”

“I’m unsurprised that you know of the Avengers,” he admitted, “However, I don’t understand how you knew that _you_ are a candidate.”

“It’s not exactly hard to figure it out now, is it?” She challenged, folding her arms and leaning back against the workbench, evidently feeling much calmer after the window incident. “Although you’re now aware of the existence of my kind, it was agreed upon for the safety of my people, that I and only I, would work for SHIELD in order to keep the alliance and agreement between our worlds. My being here is breaking two-thirds of the ancient laws of my world, and if the public knew of what is it I now do in the Muggle World, they would demand my hide for their boots, no matter of the fact I’m doing for them, for their safety, to protect their way of life. They’re a judgemental and unforgiving bunch.”

She held his gaze, not backing down. “Luckily, I have Kings on my side, as well as Harry and a few other influential people to help keep my secret. You don’t have anyone else with my abilities and without sounding too arrogant, I _am_ well accomplished in my world. I’m a fair duellist, I have knowledge most don’t even know exist, I’m a fully qualified Healer _and_ I have a strategic, logical mind. It’s true that your Avengers would benefit my being a part of the team, but I would not. And, it means filing more paperwork, something neither I nor you would wish to do. It’s incredibly boring and we both have better things to do with our time.”

He watched her carefully with his one good eye.

“Plus, Phil told me,” she added amusedly with a shrug of her shoulder.

He had to force himself not to roll his eye or sigh in annoyance, not being all that surprised by what she’d revealed. Agent Coulson, whilst being one of his best and a good recruiter, was susceptible to a pretty face, a pretty face who held incredible abilities.

“You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger,” he stated knowingly.

“It’s not my fault he’s taken a shine to me,” she argued, insulted by his insinuation that she’d deliberately lured him to her like a Siren would a sailor to their death. “ _He’s_ the one that brought it up, completely out of the blue, might I add. Anyway, we’ve gone off-topic. Why do you wish to know of my knowledge on your highly secret team of superheroes?” She arched an eyebrow.

“You have resources open to you that we don’t, regardless of the technology we have. Your new assignment is to work _alongside_ Tony Stark, with _out_ killing him, and create a number of offensive and defensive devices that will aid the Avengers when they are called, allowing for maximisation of their skills.”

“Do you anticipate that happening?” She tipped her head.

“Stark will provide you with anything you require and whether or not you tell him of your abilities is your decision.”

She narrowed her eyes at his avoidance of the question; that was more telling than any answer he might have given her.

“Why am I being relocated? I can always work on my assignment _here_ , in my lab, without the need for being shipped off like a prized cattle.”

“Stark requested you.”

“Excuse me?” She spluttered.

“Stark hacked into SHIELD’s mainframe and discovered your file. As requested and for security purposes, there is nothing regarding your abilities in the system or on record, as there is always a risk of someone breaking through the encoding, as Stark proved,” he grumbled. The Stark genius was a pain in his ass.

“Why does he want me?”

“Do I look as though I know the inner workings of Stark’s twisted but brilliant mind?” He replied, unaffected by her annoyed scowl. “He requested you and you will report to Stark Industries, Manhattan, New York, at 13:00 hours on Monday. In the meantime, pack up your lab and your belongings from your quarters.”

~000~000~000~

Hermione sighed as she looked up at the large Stark Industries Tower. How did her life get to this point?

After the War, Hermione had returned to school and gotten the best NEWT scores since Dumbledore. After graduation, she’d struggled to decide which field most appealed to her and which she’d wished to build a career with, and so, she didn’t limit herself.

Upon leaving Hogwarts, she trained to be a Healer and within eighteen months, she was fully qualified and with the best results that’d been seen in decades. She remained in the medical field for a little over one year, and at the age of twenty-three, she handed in her notice and moved away from the medicine, training to be Potions and Herbology Mistress.

After completing her studies and becoming qualified in both fields in only two years, she took an apprenticeship under Professor McGonagall, and two years after that, she was a fully qualified Transfigurations Mistress by the age of twenty-seven. But she hadn’t remained at Hogwarts and taken on the position of the Transfiguration Professor as McGonagall had wanted.

Hermione had come to realise that she loved learning and discovering knowledge far more than she loved having a steady job and a monthly wage. There was so much knowledge, wisdom and magic in the world and she wanted to explore as much of it as she could whilst she was still young, whilst she had the time and opportunity to do so.

And so, by the age of twenty-nine, not only was Hermione a licensed Healer and Potions, Herbology _and_ Transfiguration Mistress, but she was also a Curse Breaker after training under Bill Weasley for a little over a year.

Her professional life was always active and she was always on the go, especially when she accepted private work projects and free-lance work that kept her bank vault full. Her personal life, well, that was another matter entirely.

After the War, she and Ron had dated for five years and had been engaged for three of those. Ron had never understood that she loved to learn new things, that she needed to be challenged, and he never approved of her going away for weeks at a time when it came to her travelling with Bill for her training. But she got to see places such as Egypt, Russia, India _and_ China, places that were full of wonder, history and culture. They argued frequently before she left for her expeditions and when she returned, days would pass before they’d speak and make amends.

Ron wanted a big family and as soon as Hermione had graduated, he’d proposed. She’d been honest and confessed that she wasn’t ready to marry and settle down, but a year later and after continuous arguments and badgering, she’d accepted his proposal, if only to keep him quiet.

When that ring was placed on her finger, marriage and children was all that was forced upon her. Ron had expected her to be a carbon copy of his mother; a stay at home mother to a brood of curly redheads. Of which, she wholeheartedly disagreed with.

He wanted marriage and children within the year, she wanted to wait until she’d explored and learned as much as she could before they had children together, before her life was expected to change. And she certainly didn’t have any desire to be a stay at home mother, nor did she want a brood of children. She wasn’t even certain that she _wanted_ children, or better yet, if she _could_ have children. And these factors were the cause of many an argument that saw Hermione fleeing to Harry, or Ron, his mother.

And on the eve of their fifth anniversary, Hermione discovered through the _Daily Prophet_ that Ron had been cheating on her. On multiple, separate occasions.

The bastard was lucky he was still alive when she’d finished with him and then Harry had found out, then George, followed by Bill and Charlie and the scariest of the lot of them, Ginny.

Ron had been in hospital for a week.

Hermione had ended their relationship and thrown the ring at him, packed up her belongings and left their shared flat, temporarily moving in with Harry and Ginny and their then only child, James, but they currently had three children in total, James, Albus and Lily.

She moved out within a month after finding an apartment and she continued to travel the Wizarding World in search of knowledge and adventure, often popping into the Muggle World to catch up on current affairs and news.

Not long after her thirtieth birthday, she’d been summoned from her travels in India and to the Ministry of Magic by Kingsley himself, the Minister having a proposition for her. It seemed that a secret muggle spy organisation had gotten wind of there being magical users in existence and in order to protect their world, Hermione was sent to liaison with SHIELD, something that resulted in her moving across the pond and to America as she was added to their payroll, well, unofficially. There were few that knew she existed and even fewer that knew of her true identity, abilities and true motives for working for SHIELD, who had agreed to keep the secret of magic hidden as long as Hermione worked for them, giving them access to facilities they’d never had before.

It had ultimately taken her two months to make a decision, not wishing to leave behind those she loved but knowing what consequences might befall her world, and in order to protect them she’d accepted the terms of the peace treaty. All of the Weasley children were married and had children of their own (including Ron) and she was the odd one out. She spent more time away than she did at home and she no longer factored into their lives as she once did.

After working for SHIELD for almost two years, that is how she now found herself walking into the property of the genius billionaire, Tony Stark.

Her black heels clacked against the floor and echoed in the foyer, her black pencil skirt fell just below the knee and was high-waisted, a long-sleeved white blouse tucked into the hem with the top button undone and a matching black blazer over the top. Her mahogany curls had tamed over the years and now flowed down her back, unbound yet clipped back from her face and in her hand, she carried a satchel-type black briefcase.

As she approached the reception desk in order to register her arrival, the lift dinged open and out stepped the one and only Tony Stark, his attention on the device in his hand, blindly navigating his way.

Seeming to know he wasn’t alone, his eyes lifted, locking on her.

“Ah, Dr. Granger, right on time,” he spoke, heading straight towards her and intervening before she reached the reception desk.

Whilst she was curious how he knew she was Dr. Granger given that there hadn’t been a photo of her on file, she assumed he’d likely looked at the factors of her being dressed as though she was there for a meeting and that she was arriving at the time specified, and he’d just made a calculated guess.

He stopped in front of her and when she took his proffered hand, she saw him giving her the once over. She had grown over the years, finally coming into her looks, especially when she put in the effort, not that she did often, mind. What need did one have for makeup and looking pretty when they were hidden away in a lab for twelve hours a day or backpacking through the jungle, searching for a thought to be extinct creature who’s blood held healing capabilities?

She stood at five-foot-six but the heels added three inches to her height. She was pale-skinned with her scars and imperfections hidden by her clothing. Her heart-shaped face held large chocolate brown eyes that were highlighted by her naturally long and thick eyelashes and she had a small button nose, pink plump lips and a perfect white smile, something her parents would be exceptionally proud of.

And as he gave her the once over, she returned the favour.

He was taller than her though not by much when she stood in heels, she estimated him to be a little under six-foot. His black hair was styled to look as though he’d just rolled out of bed, but she suspected it took him a lot of time to actually get it to look that way. His goatee was the same black colour and trimmed neatly, and he had dark brown eyes and fair skin. She knew from the research she’d done the night before that he was nine years older than her, making him forty-years-old, but he certainly didn’t look it. Her eyes trailed down his body, surprised to see that his black t-shirt showed off an impressive physique, and the arc reactor glowed on his chest, shining through the fabric of his t-shirt.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark,” she greeted.

He grimaced and pulled his hand back, slipping it into his jean pocket.

“Tony. Just Tony, Mr. Stark was my father.”

“I was told that you didn’t like the title, but I’d rather make sure first,” she replied. “And if you’re Tony, then I’m Hermione, Dr. Granger was my father _and_ my mother,” she added. “And Miss. Granger just brings back memories of my school years.”

His lip quirked before he beckoned for her to follow him with his finger, leading the way towards the lift and stepping inside, Hermione watching as he punched a code into the keypad, swiped a card over the scanner and then pressed his hand palm flat against a panel before the lift jerked. Hermione was forced to reach out towards the railing to steady herself.

“So, quick introduction,” he began, “I’m Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, philanthropist, blah blah blah... Welcome to Stark Industries. You’ll be given your own lab and security clearance and due to the nature of your residency here, only the two of us will have access. You’re expected to work a minimum of forty hours a week, how you spread that out is up to you. There is no set arrival or leaving time, blah blah blah... If you wish to work 3am until 10am or four ten hours shifts and take the remaining three days for yourself, that’s your prerogative.” Hermione arched an eyebrow and he shrugged in reply, appearing unconcerned. “Any questions? No, good,” he said, not giving her time to answer him.

She leaned back against the metal of the lift and shifted on her feet uncomfortably.

“Why are you wearing that?”

“Wearing what?” She checked, seeing him gesture to her business attire. She frowned and looked down at herself. “What? I thought it looked fine. Fury told me there was a dress code I had to follow.” The look on his face told her everything she needed to know. “Oh, thank the Heavens,” she sighed and much to his amusement, she kicked off her heels and picked them up in her hand, leaving her barefoot. She opened her briefcase, which was empty and only for show and slipped them inside. “I’ve had them on all morning and my feet are _killing_ me,” she grumbled. “And I swear, the next time I see Fury, I’m going to poke him in his good eye,” she promised.

He snorted at her, looking at her with a curiously tilted head. The lift dinged.

“Ah, here we are, the 91st floor, officially known as your lab.”

He stepped out and she followed him, almost gasping in shock at the sheer size of the room. It made her lab back at SHIELD look like a matchbox.

“Alright then, Fury said something about you needing a well preserved and heated room?”

“Yes,” she nodded, her eyes darting about the large space before moving to him. “Some of the components I work with are volatile and require a certain humidity or temperature to prevent them from either exploding or spoiling. In short, they’re very temperamental.”

He gave her a curious look. “That’s why I had a divider installed,” he gestured to the sliding door that did, in fact, transform the one large room into two. “You can use it as a greenhouse, I suppose. I’ll have you keyed into the controls for the thermostat on this floor. This is your space, you can do with it as you wish. I need you to supply a list of the equipment you require and I’ll ensure it’s ordered and delivered as quickly as possible. If there’s anything you need from one of your highly secret sources Fury mentioned, you go ahead and order it and I’ll reimburse you for the costs. There’s a room in the back where you’ll find a bathroom and a bedroom, if you’re working late and wish to crash here.”

“There’s a distinct lack of technology in here,” she noted, seeing that the workbenches were empty and there was only one computer screen in the entire lab.

“Fury informed me of your technological voodoo,” he spoke amusedly, arching a questioning eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault,” she argued. “Technology _hates_ me, whenever I touch a computer screen it either freezes up or the circuits burn out. My hair almost caught fire last time.”

He snorted. “What I would give to see that,” his mouth twitched at her scowl. “And given your words, I imagine Jarvis will be safe.”

“Jarvis?” She questioned.

“My AI,” he shrugged. “Say hi, Jarvis,” he instructed.

“Hello, Dr. Granger,” a British accented voice spoke from out of nowhere and she yelped in surprise, her hand coming up to press against her heart, sending Tony a glare when he sniggered.

“Er, hello?” She replied nervously, her eyes darting about in search of the source despite knowing she wouldn’t see anything.

“Jarvis is here to help with anything you need... Ordering equipment, contacting suppliers, answering questions, giving directions, booking dinner reservations, and he has quite the opinion on classical literature and enjoys a good debate. If he’s unable to help you, then come and find me, I shouldn’t be far and if I am, Jarvis knows how to contact me and he’ll patch you through.”

“Security cameras?” She questioned. “I’ve no doubt you’ve been informed of how private I am.”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t bring that up,” he admitted, looking a little put out at the thought that he wouldn’t be able to spy on her and see exactly what it was she did or used to do for SHIELD. “I’ll have all security cameras disabled by tomorrow, it’s gonna take some time.”

“I don’t believe you,” she responded, her gaze locking with his and much to her amusement, he actually pouted.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Jarvis, disable all security cameras for this floor.”

“Yes, Sir,” replied the AI.

“And audio recordings,” Hermione added.

“Buzzkill,” Tony grumbled. “Audio recordings, too.”

“Yes, Sir,” repeated the AI.

“Now that you’ve ruined my day,” he began and Hermione barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes, “I’ll have your contract drawn up by the end of the day for you to read over and sign. On Friday, I’ll take you to dinner and we’ll discuss your first week with Stark Industries. Agreeable? Wonderful... If you need me, I’m usually on the floor above, I’ll get the codes and key cards to you by the end of the day. If you’re hungry, there’s a kitchen and lounge on the 89th floor and if you’re in need of a bit of stress relief, the gym’s on the 90th floor. So, I guess I’ll leave you to your own devices.”

She nodded at him, smiling in thanks and he headed to the lift. She turned her back to him, putting her briefcase on the ground, removing her blazer and putting it on the workbench, undoing a couple more buttons and rolling up her sleeves before pulling her long hair up into a mess on top of her head, not noticing that Tony Stark had been watching her do so and with some interest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 12

Friday had arrived far sooner than Hermione realised and with it brought the dinner plans she had with her new boss, Tony Stark.

She didn't know what to make of him, all she knew of him she'd learned from the file Fury had given her to examine before she'd left, and despite it being quite hefty in weight, it hadn't been all that helpful to her.

She hadn't seen him since late Monday evening when he'd popped by her lab to quickly give her the security access codes, key card and her contract, as well as to retrieve her required resources list, something that had been marginally small given that most of her equipment was wizarding made and something she'd have to acquire herself.

The next day when she arrived at Stark Tower and stepped into her lab, she'd found boxes waiting to be unpacked. When her lunch hour arrived, she made a visit into Wizarding New York, needing to pick up some equipment and supplies and by Wednesday, the majority of her lab was complete with the exception of one or two items which had been ordered and she was waiting for delivery. Thursday, she'd allotted herself the time to go in search of an apartment as SHIELD had provided funds which only covered her staying in a hotel for two weeks and once it passed, she had to pay her own bills and she wasn't willing to continue paying for a hotel room when she could hopefully find a property to rent for approximately the same price.

When Friday arrived, in all honesty, Hermione had thought Tony had forgotten about dinner (which was understandable given how busy he was) and when it had grown dark outside and reached nine-thirty, she turned off the lights to her lab, hung her coat over her arm and stepped into the lift.

As she leaned against the wall in exhaustion, having been in her lab for fourteen hours that day, she watched as the lights on the keypad indicated which level she was on until she stepped out on the ground floor. She made her way to the door just as Tony stepped through, sporting a black tailored suit, a white shirt and a black tie, his attention being on the device in his hands and he almost walked straight into her.

"Heading home, Granger?" Tony questioned.

"It is Friday night, Tony," she replied, arching an eyebrow, waiting for the penny to drop.

He blinked slowly, his eyes searching her face. "Oh, Friday, right. Shit! I said we'd have a meeting over dinner, didn't I?"

"You did," she confirmed amusedly.

"Right, let's go then," he nodded, making to turn around and leave out the door.

She cleared her throat, drawing his attention and she pointedly looked down at herself, bringing note to her casual blue skinny jeans, white converse and black t-shirt. His eyes darted to his own attire, realising that he wasn't dressed for an informal dinner and she wasn't dressed for the opposite.

"Ah, give me five minutes," he nodded in understanding.

Not giving her the opportunity to reply, he strode towards the lift and disappeared behind the doors. She decided to wait for him outside and exactly seven minutes later, he exited the building wearing jeans, trainers and a t-shirt with a jacket grasped in his hand. She'd been expecting him to summon a car but he surprised her when he walked off down the street and she had to speed up her steps in order to catch up to him.

They journeyed in silence until they came to a quiet diner not far from Stark Industries and when they took seats at a corner booth, Hermione was impressed when the waitress managed to take their order without simpering over Tony, but judging by their interactions, she assumed Tony frequented the diner often. When their food arrived, Tony asked her how her first week had gone and if she had finished setting up her lab, of which, she answered appropriately, and with 'shop talk' out of the way, he said,

"Ask me?" He prompted, leaning back against the cushioned leather seat of the booth.

"Ask you what?" She frowned in confusion.

"There's something bothering you, I can see it," he said knowingly.

She leaned back in her seat, too. He was observant, she'd give him that.

"Very well. Why did you request me? Fury told me that I couldn't work on my assignment at headquarters as you had requested me specifically. He informed me that you hacked into the mainframe and looked through my file."

"I was bored and I wanted to prove a point," he shrugged, showing no remorse for what he'd done. "They need better security, something I've been saying for weeks; I was simply pointing out their weaknesses, which is _everything_. They'd seriously benefit by asking me to upgrade their systems," he said confidently.

"That didn't answer my question. _Why_ did you request _me_?" She repeated.

He watched her in intrigue. "You're the best in your field," he said simply.

"And what field would that be?" She quirked her eyebrow in challenge, knowing that her job title and achievements weren't on record. In fact, there wasn't much on her at all, if only her name, date of birth, place of birth and a few other minuscule details, some which may or may not have been fabricated.

"The scientific kind," he quipped. She smirked at him. "Fine, I was curious," he admitted. "I was able to find more information on Fury than I was on you, and generally, I wouldn't have paid any mind to your file on their system but the security surrounding your file was more difficult to decode. The fact that you, a seemingly unimportant employee, had more protection and less information than Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD, was _far_ too inviting."

"You can't bear not knowing things, can you?" It was more of a statement than an actual question.

"What are you hiding that requires you to have better security than Fury?" He leaned forward, his arms settling on the table and his eyes narrowed slightly.

She contemplated her options. At some point in time, she was going to be working alongside the Avengers and they'd likely know her secret by then, as the devices she would have created wouldn't have been done so through the latest technology but rather magic. Tony Stark was a candidate for the Avengers, so there was an option to tell him now so if the time came, he could vouch for her and help to sway the others if they had an issue with her magic abilities. But he was a terrible secret keeper, case and point, the reveal of him being Iron Man. On live TV. With _millions_ of people watching. To the _entire_ world.

"I'm not exactly an agent of SHIELD in the sense that I represent them," she began, her brow furrowing in thought as she wondered how to word it without lying but without telling him everything. Her teeth sunk into her lip and eyes crinkled. "It's true that I am, or was rather, on their payroll, but my loyalties weren't solely to them."

"How did Fury feel about that?"

"I don't particularly care how he felt about it, he knew when I joined SHIELD that I did it to protect my people."

" _Your people_?" He echoed, his eyes brightening. "As in tea-loving, crumpet-munching, stick up the ass Brits?" He jibed.

"Your perception of the British is awful. I'll have you know that not everyone likes tea or crumpets, nor does every Brit have a stick stuck up their arse. That's an awful stereotype," she scowled at him and he simply shrugged, unbothered. "We have deprived areas and poor families, we have homeless people and stray animals. We have the rich and poor. We can suffer abuse and mistreatment just as you can. And in response to your question, not exactly. I have my own people. When SHIELD discovered our existence, I was sent as a buffer of sorts, and a part of the peace treaty and alliance included that I work for SHIELD. There is no information on me or my people on record _anywhere_ , and there are only a handful of people that know of us. Where I come from, I am highly accomplished. I am a fully licensed medical doctor and I have a master's in four other fields of work, the highest achievements possible, and I am unable to reveal them to you."

"Why won't you tell me?" He all but pouted.

"The safety of my people is paramount, if the world were to discover our ways and customs, it would end in bloodshed as a war _would_ break out and nothing good comes from war." Her voice quietened as she finished her sentence, looking down at the table as she felt memories being dragged from the box she had locked them all away in and to the front of her mind. She shook her head and looked back up at him. "I don't think I can trust you to keep my secret, or the secret of my people if I were to reveal it to you."

"I'm great at keeping secrets," he argued.

"It's true, I am Iron Man," she deadpanned and he scowled at her. "You're rubbish and I can't take that risk."

"I don't understand why you've been given better security than Fury."

"That's because you don't know what it is I'm hiding from you," she shrugged. "I will impart this information on you though," she said and he leaned further forward, his arms crossed on the table. "I have knowledge and abilities that allow me to be a candidate for the Avengers Initiative."

His eyes widened and his interest was piqued further.

"I assume you know Agent Coulson?" She said and Tony nodded, quickly motioning for her to continue with a wave of his hand. "For almost two years, he's been trying to persuade me to join the Avengers so that when they are called, I will be a part of the team. I decline every time."

"Why?" His brow furrowed and he tipped his head, watching her closely.

"The Avengers will benefit from what I am able to do," she admitted, "But I won't. It won't be a good environment for me."

He cocked an eyebrow when she didn't elaborate further and he leaned back in his seat, understanding that was all she wished to speak on the matter and pushing further would be useless.

"And now that I'm in your employment, I’ve spent the week setting up my lab and you have no idea of my true skill set or qualifications, what _exactly_ is it you employed me to do?" She folded her hands beneath her chin and set her chin atop, lifting both eyebrows slightly.

"What did you do for SHIELD?" He probed.

She pursed her lips in thought, "Well, you could say that I was an analyst."

"Of?" He prompted.

"I can't tell you."

He gave her an unhappy expression. "Well, you're a licensed doctor, right? When I get banged up after a testing phase goes wrong or I'm bloodied and bruised after I've been out in my suit, you could patch me up, save me the time of going to the hospital," he shrugged.

"I'm quite certain you have the best doctors in the country on your payroll as private physicians," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but you're one floor below me, much easier than having to summon one of them and wait hours for them to arrive."

"Fair enough," she nodded. "However, that's only when you're injured, and what am I to do with the rest of my time?"

"You have a lab, something Fury said was a requirement. Use it, do whatever it was you were doing for SHIELD," he shrugged.

"I can't, I'm not in that business anymore as it was specific to them and their requirements. But I am working on a few projects that once successfully completed, could change the very field of medicine," she confessed

"Not going to elaborate on that?"

"No."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"So, what in your SHIELD file _is_ true?" He questioned.

She shrugged. "I _was_ born and raised in London, England. I _am_ thirty-one-years-old and I _am_ one of the highest achievers and so-called brightest minds to have come from my people in centuries. I frequently have job offers arriving at my door and it takes me more time to decline them than it does to read the offers because they're determined not to take no for an answer, and no matter the incentives, I still decline."

"I noticed you didn't mention a boyfriend," he commented offhandedly.

Both eyebrows lifted as she observed him closely. "You are correct, I didn't."

"There's no man on the scene?"

"Not anymore, no."

"That implies there was," he pointed out.

"Very clever, Tony, have you always been this observant?" She teased.

His lip twitched but he narrowed his eyes, not willing to back down.

She sighed in defeat. Well, she supposed she could tell him the truth. What was he going to do with it? Tell everyone? It's not like it would reveal anything that was meant to be kept secret.

"I was engaged a few years back," she admitted, seeing his eyes widen a fraction as he sat straight, giving her his full attention. "We met in school, we'd been best friends since I was twelve-years-old, and we started dating when I was nineteen. He proposed a year later but I turned him down. I wasn't ready for marriage, I felt that I was too young and I was putting all of my focus into my career, but the problem with Ron is that he can't take no for answer, he has the emotional range of a teaspoon."

He snorted at her, leaning further forward.

"After another year of his constant whining and remarks, I agreed to marry him, but once I had the ring on my finger, he was always making demands that I leave my career behind so we could marry and have children within a year. Ron has a very old fashioned view of the world. Men should work and women should stay home, cook and clean and look after the children. He wanted to turn me into his mother, and although she's a lovely woman, I can't and won't become what she was when he was a child, a house-wife to seven children."

He made a startled sound in the back of his throat, his eyes darting down to his hands, Hermione observing in amusement as he physically counted to seven on his fingers, his eyes widening further at the thought of having that many children in one lifetime.

"Ron wanted to marry within six months and have our first child no less than a year later and at this point, I was barely twenty-one. He said he wanted _six_ children, _minimum_. The problem being, I'm not even sure I want children, or if I can have them," she added that part quietly, and she continued before he could question her, seeing as he opened his mouth to speak.

"After a while, I quit my job, not only because I grew tired of not being challenged, but because Ron was always starting arguments, as I apparently, put my work before him. So, I took a few months off to placate him but I was bored and unhappy and I couldn't deal with the sitting around on my arse or the cooking and cleaning of the apartment, so I started my masters. By the time I reached twenty-four, things between Ron and I weren't great. My studies took me travelling the world for weeks at a time and he hated that I was spending more time with his eldest brother than I was him, given that he was my mentor for one of my masteries. On the eve of our fifth anniversary, I discovered that he'd been cheating on me, for God knows how long, and it wasn't one separate occurrence, nor just one woman." He blinked, remaining silent. "It didn't take me as long to get over it as I thought it would, seeing as I had the support of his family; they'd taken my side on the matter, he has four older brothers and a younger sister, and seeing as Ron's mother and father practically raised me growing up, they see me as their little sister," she shrugged.

"You said there were seven children?" He frowned. "You only mentioned six."

She smiled sadly. "Yes, Ron had five older brothers, Bill, Charlie, Percy and the twins, Fred and George. When I was eighteen, Fred died. It took us all a while to come to terms with it. The twins are ingenious when it comes to practical jokes and they quit school before graduating to set up their own business, which is now highly successful," she boasted. "Growing up, the twins would always target me because I was an easy victim for them and they knew that I would give them honest feedback on the products they created. When Fred died, it took us years to move on, worst of all, poor George, who was lost without his twin. Bill had to step in to run the business for a while whilst George grieved. He even cut and dyed his hair at one point because when he looked in the mirror, all he saw was Fred. But he's doing well for himself now, he's married and got a daughter and I received word a few days ago he's expecting his second child," she shrugged.

"There's been no one else since?"

"Not really, any relationship after Ron didn't last longer than a few months. Apparently, I spend too much time working, I'm too intimidating and I come with a large, interfering family, one of which, is my best friend and brother in everything but blood and has been since I was twelve, several sisters-in-law, and _very_ overprotective older brothers. When they found out that Ron had betrayed me the way he did, he was in hospital for a week. They beat up their own little brother for me." She held back a laugh at his surprised expression. "So, that's my background..."

"No, it's not," he interrupted. "I hacked every database in existence... FBI, CIA, MI5 _and_ 6, GCHQ, Interpol, SHIELD, NSA, Mossad, MOD, DOD, NIS, SIS, FIC, KGB..."

"Was shutdown in 1991," she injected, lazily sipping her beverage through a straw. "And that's a lot of letters. Do you think they pick randomly from the alphabet and then decide the acronyms?"

He scowled at her. "My point being, I hacked _every_ database and spy organisation _known_ to exist and some _thought_ to exist, and d'you know what I found on you? Nothing! Zip! Nada!" He exclaimed, waving his hands about madly, something she found quite comical, especially paired with his wide eyes. "You didn't exist until I discovered your highly secret and annoyingly empty file in SHIELD'S database. Even with the information I did have regarding your name, place and date of birth, I found no evidence of your existence. And I had Jarvis confirm the results. _Twice_!"

"Really?" She questioned in surprise. "Hmmm, that's interesting," she mused.

"Interesting?" He pushed.

"Yes, because I assure you, I most definitely _do_ exist, I'm sitting before you now as we speak. And as I said before, my name is Hermione Granger, my date of birth is 19th September 1979, and I was born and raised in London, England."

"I have to disagree," he propped his chin atop his clasped hands. "There's no school record, medical record, social security number, bank account, not even a library card. I can't even find a damn birth certificate and that means I've no idea who your birth parents are and I can't search any database for their existence either."

"National insurance number," she corrected.

"What?"

"We call it a national insurance number, not a social security number."

"Whatever," he rolled his eyes. "You get my point."

"Well, I attended nursery and primary school in Richmond, London and once I reached the age of eleven, I was transferred to a highly secret and secure boarding school for children with special talents."

"You're a boarding school brat?" His eyebrow arched, his eyes lighting with interest. "That doesn't surprise me."

"That depends on your definition of a boarding school brat," she shrugged, reaching for a cold fry from her mostly empty plate and biting half of it, despite being full. "I wasn't sent away because my parents had money, because they wanted me out of the way or because they worked so much and they barely saw me. In fact, in the beginning, they didn't wish for me to attend, they wanted me to remain home, they even considered home school education. I had to beg them to let me go, and with the help of my then deputy headmistress, we were able to convince them. I suppose I understand; I was expected to be away thirty-eight weeks of the year for a total of seven years. That's a lot of missed parenting and bonding opportunities."

His head tipped slightly, "And what was your special talent?"

Her mouth twitched. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"I would," he protested.

"You'll faint," she sang.

"I won't!" He sat taller.

"You will," she said confidently. "My parents did."

His brow furrowed. "This highly secret school... The name?"

"You won't have heard of it."

"Try me," he challenged.

"Hogwarts."

His expression fell before pulling into a scowl and she sniggered, reaching for her beverage and sipping from the straw, her gaze locked with his.

"Heard of it?" She questioned, putting her beverage aside.

He looked to be contemplating giving her the two-finger salute.

"No," he admitted. "What kind of stupid name is that?"

"I didn't name it, and I did say it was _highly secret_ ," she shrugged lazily.

"Not for long," he promised.

"You won't find mention of it in any database."

"Watch me," he arrogantly lifted his chin.

Her mouth twitched. "I'm telling you, it's a waste of time."

"I'll focus my search on the UK, mostly England based databases."

"It won't work," she sang.

"Why's that?"

"Firstly, I didn't attend boarding school in England, and secondly, Hogwarts isn't very tech-savvy."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, they don't use or require technological databases. They use the good old system of hard copies and paper files."

He frowned in disappointment. "I can hack into a space station, search for buildings large enough to be considered a boarding school and eliminate properties owned by..."

"Nope," she interrupted, popping the 'p'. "Hogwarts is cleverly disguised from all satellite stations due to its surroundings of thick and dense forests."

He visible perked. "You don't say," he mused. "Well, perhaps I might hack into the power grid and search for high power usage in rural areas. A boarding school with so many students is likely to have a high electrical usage rate, and when I find that, I can hack into the Wi-Fi, see what the kiddies are up to."

Hermione smirked as she fiddled with the straw in her half-empty glass. "Good plan," she nodded, "However, Hogwarts has a strict no-technology policy."

"What?" He spluttered.

"Yep, due to the rural surroundings, there is terrible reception and as such, there is no use for phones. If students wish to converse with parents, they must write a letter. There is also a ban on TV, computers and laptops and video game consoles, as it removes the temptation of distraction and allows for work productivity. I should also mention, there is no WI-FI, not even for the professors."

"No internet," he whispered, looking horrified at the thought.

"No internet," she confirmed with a nod. "All classwork, homework and exams must be completed on paper, and all research must be sourced from books provided in the library or books that are specifically ordered from the book shop in the nearby village."

"What kind of _Hell_ is this place?" His voice rose slightly in horror.

"School," she offered, highly amused by his reaction. "It wasn't that bad," she shrugged. "The school library was vast, the grounds included a lake and sports pitch, in which inter-school sports competitions were held. We had board and card games, snowball fights in the winter, water fights when it grew warm, and we were allowed to visit the nearby village for shopping and socialising one weekend of every month, so long as we had permission from our parents and were above third-year."

"No internet," he whispered to himself, seeming to not have heard what she'd just said.

"Yes, Tony, no internet," she rolled her eyes.

"Torture. That's torture. They should be reported to... Whoever it is that's in charge of child welfare in schools!"

She snorted. "You're very dramatic."

"Dramatic, I'm not dramatic," he argued. "No internet, that's _torture_."

"You get used to it," she shrugged.

"That's not possible," he protested. "No internet."

"You seem fixated on this," she observed.

"No internet!" He exclaimed. "How are you not bothered by that?"

"It doesn't bother me, technology hates me."

"Yeah, 'cause you were tortured through the withholding of technology. That's a crime! It's no wonder you have bad tech juju. You don't know _how_ to use it."

"That's not entirely true, I know how to use technology to do simple tasks such as complete an online search or do online shopping, but anything else... Well, it's not pretty. Luckily, I don't require such aspects in my work."

"And that is?" He perked up.

"I'm not telling you," she chirped.

"You work for me. I pay your wage and it's my building."

"It's _my_ lab, remember? You said so yourself," she shrugged. "And I didn't ask you to steal me from my comfortable life at SHIELD. Your curiosity got the best of you. You should've known that I wouldn't reveal the nature of my work for SHIELD, or my current projects, more than I have, at least."

"Which _I'm_ bankrolling. Come on, I'm paying for it, tell me what I'm paying for," he pleaded.

"No."

"Well, that decides it."

"Decides what?" She arched an eyebrow.

He leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. "I don't like you."

She snorted. "For a genius, billionaire, philanthropist, you're quite childish."

"You forgot playboy, and I'm _not_ childish."

"Your behaviour says otherwise," she argued, having to suppress a yawn that came out of nowhere.

"You're tired," he commented.

"No, I'm fine."

His eyebrow quirked. "Why do you work so many hours?"

"Excuse me?" She questioned, caught off guard.

"Monday, you worked ten hours, Tuesday thirteen, Wednesday twelve and today fourteen. That's forty-nine hours, more than the expected and you'd taken Thursday off."

"You said forty _minimum_ ," she pointed out.

He shrugged. "That's only because ninety-eight percent of my employees work nine to five, Monday to Friday, it's always quieter on the weekends."

"I don't know if I should be concerned or flattered that you're keeping track of my work schedule."

"Not on purpose, as you requested the disenabling of the security cameras and audio, I had to up the security at the access point. I get a notification every time the lab's accessed or is attempted to be accessed, which means I can see when you start and when you clock out. It's easier to keep track of my employees' monthly schedule so they're paid for the hours they're owed, and of course, Jarvis takes care of all of that. Speaking of wages, you don't have a bank account..."

"I take payment in cash."

He arched an eyebrow. "That's a lot of dough to be walking around with."

"I have my own banking system," she shrugged. "In fact, before SHIELD, I struggled to maintain a full-time job because I was easily bored, and as such, I often took free-lance work on the side when I was completing my masters, and payment wasn't always monetary."

"That makes no sense," he said.

"Maybe not to you," she shrugged. "Sometimes, I accepted free-lance work from people that couldn't afford my services, and make no mistake, I am good at what I do and I do come with a hefty bill for those that can afford it. And those that couldn't, well, sometimes I'd take payment in the form of an I owe you, a favour. Once, someone even baked me cupcakes once a week for an entire year. You know, a few years ago, someone actually offered to buy me a _house_ as payment."

"And what do you expect from me?" His mouth quirked at the corner.

She rolled her eyes, knowing the turn his mind had taken.

"You _can_ afford my services, Mr. Billionaire, even if you don't know what it is you're paying for. But, I suppose I'm not opposed to a slice of white chocolate cheesecake or a slice of red velvet cake, if you're feeling generous."

"You'd take an entire month's wage in the form of a cheesecake?" He gave her a look that clearly said he thought her mentally unstable.

"You can't beat a good cheesecake," she argued. "I'm not money driven. Knowledge. That's my payment. I know I need money to survive and to fund my research and experiments, but I can live without the finer things in life. And that's why I work so many hours. Because I _like_ it."

"You're messed up in the head, aren't you?"

It was supposed to be teasing, she knew, but in that moment, he didn't know how right he was.

She offered a sad smile. "You've no idea."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 19

She was going to kill him.

She was going to murder him.

She was going to hang him upside down by his toes and dangle him over the edge of the skyscraper that adorned his name.

Her hands clenching into fists in an effort to refrain from reaching for her wand, she looked up to the ceiling and took a calming breath. It didn't work. She was going to kill Tony Stark.

"Jarvis?"

"Yes, Dr. Granger?" Replied the disembodied voice.

"Is Tony currently in the building?"

"Yes, he is at his work station on the 92nd floor."

"Fabulous," she responded, stalking towards the lift. "Do I have access?"

"Yes, Dr. Granger. Mr. Stark permitted you access."

"He's going to regret that," she muttered.

"Yes, I do believe he will," agreed the AI. "Should I alert Mr. Stark to your visit?"

"Does he not receive notifications as he does with my lab?"

"Yes, he does, however, he is currently occupied by his latest project. Should I alert him to your arrival, Dr. Granger?"

"And warn him of my wrath? Not a chance," she grumbled, stepping into the lift, pressing the button for the 92nd floor, swiping her key card and pressing her hand palm flat against the glowing panel.

Stepping out onto the floor above her lab, she took but a brief moment to notice the marble flooring, modern interior and plush furniture before she navigated her way towards what she believed to be Tony's work station. Well, she only assumed so given the loud, blaring music coming from the other side of the room, music she didn't quite recognise but she'd assume was either metal or rock, something similar to the Weird Sisters.

The glass panel automatically opened at her arrival, allowing her access and she stepped into the large room, spying the array of tech items that littered the space, half of which she didn't recognise or understand how to use, but the most impressive was the holographic screens, a large one in the centre of the room and the others smaller and sat by each work station.

Her eyes searched for Tony, spying him squirrelled away, perching at a workbench, hunched over as he tinkered with whatever was laid on the surface before him. With his back to her, she stormed forward, her arrival gone unnoticed due to the loud music, something that was giving her a headache. How the hell did he work with such a racket happening around him?

She stopped behind him, her posture straight and shoulders set and seeming to feel her presence, he slowly sat up and looked over his shoulder before returning his eyes forward, quickly doing a double-take.

He set the screwdriver down and swivelled his stool to fully face her, his eyes widening and slowly taking in her appearance. Her soot-covered t-shirt and jeans, the soot covering her face as though she were a cartoon character who'd been stood near a gun powder explosion. Her hair was singed at the tips and surrounded her in a cloud, something that looked far worse than her younger years, and her face was set into an unpleased, unpleasant expression.

Reaching over, he blindly tapped a finger against the phone on the table and the music shut off, leaving only silence.

"Hey, Granger," he greeted cheerily, his eyes returning to her face after completing his perusal of her appearance. "You done something different with your hair? It suits you," he offered with a smile.

"You did this," she snapped.

He scoffed. "I did not. Innocent until proven guilty and I see no evidence," he folded his arms over his chest and leaned into the edge of the workbench behind him, and he lifted his chin as though he was offended by her accusation.

She pinned him with a glare before reaching into her back pocket and drawing back with a zip lock bag fisted in her grasp, a zip lock bag that held the remains of a slice of pepperoni pizza.

"I found this."

"Okay...?" He questioned slowly.

" _In_ one of my experiments. The bloody thing exploded in my face, luckily, no physical harm was caused but things could've gone very badly very quickly."

The Monday after she'd had dinner with Tony she hadn't expected to walk into her lab and have one of her experimental potions blow up in her face. After doing a health check and ensuring she had no damage or injuries, she'd gone searching through the remains, trying to determine what had caused the explosion when everything had been going to plan. Imagine her surprise when she'd found a surprisingly relatively still intact slice of pepperoni pizza lodged at the bottom of her cauldron.

"How's that my fault?" He argued. "You're a scientist, you should know better than to consume food in a lab."

She growled at him, something that had his expression faltering before his cool mask slipped back into place.

"Not only would I never eat in my lab, knowing the dangers that might occur should something find its way into one of my experiments, accident or otherwise, I would never eat pizza for breakfast. Leftover pizza I might add. _And_ , it's pepperoni. I _hate_ pepperoni."

He gasped in outrage, his folded arms dropping. "How dare you?!"

"Pepperoni's disgusting."

"Pepperoni's a food of the Gods. Take that back," he rose to his feet, scowling down at her.

"No, but you can take this back," she dropped the zip lock bag onto his workbench and her hands settled on her hips. "I know it was you."

"Again, innocent until proven guilty."

"Alright then, how's this for proof? There is only you and me that has access to my lab. And it certainly wasn't me, by default that leaves you."

"Evidence?" He challenged.

She narrowed her eyes. "Jarvis?"

"Yes, Dr. Granger?" Replied the AI.

"What are the access logs for my lab for today?"

"Don't answer that, Jarvis," interrupted Tony.

"Ignore him, please tell me," said Hermione.

"Dr. Granger, your lab was first accessed by Mr. Stark at 05:53 and he was recorded leaving at 06:07. Your lab was next accessed by yourself at 07:13 and you are shown to have left at 10:37."

"Snitch!" Called Tony, glaring up at the ceiling. "He's lying," he told her. "He needs an upgrade, just a few technical faults that need sorting out."

"I assure you, Mr. Stark, I am at maximum efficiency," said Jarvis.

Hermione arched an eyebrow in challenge. "It _was_ you. What the Hell were you thinking? I said I work with highly dangerous components, surely a sensible person would've stayed clear. Do you have any idea what would've happened to you had the experiment gone belly-up with you in the room and not I? The bloody pizza altered the consistency and the pepperoni reacted badly to the other components. How did it even end up _in_ there? What did you do, stick your head _over_ the experiment and the pizza slice fell out of your mouth?"

"Maybe," he admitted glumly, once more folding his arms over his chest and his shoulders slumping. "It's your fault," he accused.

"How is it my fault?" She demanded.

"If you'd have just told me what it is you were doing, I wouldn't have gone snooping."

"I can't believe this," she laughed to herself and shook her head. "You're insane."

"Brilliant, insanely brilliant," he corrected. "I know," he said smugly.

"No, just insane," she quipped. "Jarvis, contact the best psychologist in the country, I do believe Tony needs a consultation, he seems to have banged his head one too many times, no doubt from his time flying about in that metal suit of his."

"Yes, Dr. Granger... I can see that Dr. Mary Oswald is the country's leading..."

"She's joking, Jarvis," injected Tony.

"No, I'm not," she interrupted.

"Oh, I see, very well done, Dr. Granger," praised Jarvis.

"Anyway, what's the deal with the giant-ass pots? If I didn't know any better I would say they were cauldrons."

Hermione felt her mouth twitch.

"They are cauldrons. I'm a witch and I brew magical potions for a living," she confessed.

He rolled his eyes. "Funny," he deadpanned. "I know you're not a witch."

"How?" She challenged.

He lifted his hand, counting each point he listed on his fingers. "One, they don't exist. Two, magic's not real; it's all sleight of hand, distractions, mirrors and illusions. Three, you're too pretty... Witches are green-skinned with large noses and warts. Four, they melt when they come into contact with water... Case and point..."

He reached for a glass of water she hadn't noticed, dipped his fingertips into the water and then flicked the water at her face.

"Hey!" She called, barely stopping herself from smacking him. He was downright infuriating.

"See? No melty means no witchy."

Hermione rolled her eyes and pinched her nose. "Look, stay the hell out of my lab unless you give me warning that you're coming for a visit so I might stabilise the environment. And do not bring food in."

She spun on her heel and took her leave, pausing when Tony called,

"See ya later, _Cinder_ ella."

Twisting to face him, her eyes narrowed. "I was going to just let it go but now... You've brought this on yourself."

"What?" He arched an eyebrow.

"War."

"War?" He gulped.

"War," she confirmed. "Battle lines have been drawn, Stark. Prepare yourself for a loss. And I'm billing you for the cost of getting my hair fixed."

Taking her leave, she heard Tony say, "Jarvis, revoke Granger's access to this floor."

"Right away, Sir," agreed the AI. "But if I might, Sir? I do believe that won't stop her."

~000~000~000~

It was the next day when she stepped out of the lift and into the foyer, heading for the doors so she might go in search of some lunch, when she ploughed straight into a hard chest and barely righted her balance before she landed on the ground.

Pushing her hair out of her face and lifting her gaze, a snort instantly left her.

"It's not funny," scowled Tony.

"Good afternoon, Tony, did you do something different to your hair?" She asked innocently. "You look lovely."

"You did this to me," he accused, violently swivelling his index finger between her and his head, gesturing to the now red and gold streaked strands of hair.

"I did not."

"You did!"

"Innocent until proven guilty," she chirped, echoing his words from the day before. "And in any case... How could I have possibly done it? You revoked my access to your floor yesterday, and you watched me leave. Have you received any parcels in the mail since my leaving your work station? Anything that might cause such a change in appearance? I'd say the most likely would be shampoo that's been infused with hair dye, in which case, have you washed your hair recently? And how did it come out so perfect? I swear, that could be a replica of the paintwork on your suit."

"I know it was you. I don't know how you did it, but I'll find out," he promised, stepping around her and heading for the lift, glaring at those that broke out into whispers and sniggers.

"Was it you?"

She faced forward once more, her eyes slowly taking in the tall, broad form of the man stood before her. His dark hair was cut short, his dark eyes surveying her carefully. He was clean-shaven, his black suit, shirt and tie crisp and his shoes perfectly shined. Looking to the slight disfiguration in the bridge of his nose, she assumed he'd had it broken several times before, likely fighting. Given his appearance, she'd estimate he either partook in a sport or once did, and coupled with the nose, she'd assume possibly one that involved fighting. Perhaps boxing or martial arts?

"Excuse me?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Happy Hogan," he introduced, giving her hand a firm shake. "Mr. Stark's personal bodyguard and chauffeur."

"Hermione Granger, his newest employee," she greeted.

"Oh, I know who you are," he responded, his dark eyes flashing with amusement. "He hasn't stopped talking about you since the weekend. It seems you've made quite the impression on him."

"Well, obviously not, otherwise he wouldn't have gone snooping through my lab."

His mouth twitched. "Was it you?" He repeated.

"It was," she admitted, a snigger escaping the taller, broader man.

"I see he's met his match with you. How'd you do it?" He asked curiously.

"I'm a witch," she shrugged her shoulders.

"Alright then, don't tell me," he held his hands up before walking around her and backing up towards the lift so he might still talk with her. "Do me a favour? Go easy on him?"

"Not a chance, he deserves everything that's coming to him."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "A difficult few weeks it is for me then," he nodded.

"I tell you what, out of consideration, I'll bake you cookies."

"Peanut butter?"

"That's disgusting," she grimaced. "But as you wish. Good luck, Mr. Hogan."

His mouth twitched and he tipped his head, stepping into the lift. "I think I might need it."

"You will," she confirmed.

As the doors closed, the last thing she saw from him was his mouth pulling into a smirk.

~000~000~000~

"Jarvis?" Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"Yes, Dr. Granger?"

"Where is _he_?"

"Mr. Stark is currently on route to Paris. He is expected to arrive in ninety-five minutes. Would you like me to patch you through?"

"Yes, please."

"One moment, Dr. Granger."

It went quiet before his voice sounded.

"Ah, Granger, what's the problem? I see you took the morning off, feeling better?"

"Shut it, Tony," she growled. "I took the morning off because you told me the lift was out of commission and wouldn't be fixed until this afternoon. Now I know you were lying."

"Was I? Why would I do such a thing?" He replied angelically.

"You know why," she snapped.

It'd been almost two weeks since the pranking war had started and just when Hermione thought she'd won and Tony would admit defeat, he'd come back with some hidden trick up his sleeve. They both started small with simple, childish pranks here and there, such as Tony anomalously sending parcels to the foyer for her to collect and when she opened them they were empty boxes and she'd travelled 91 floors for nothing, or Hermione taping the doorway of the lift when Tony told her he was popping down for a visit, so he'd walk right into the tape and get tangled.

But Tony had kicked things up a notch that day.

The moment she'd stepped out of the lift, she noticed. It was hard not to. He'd had every surface, wall, window and piece of equipment covered and moulded with photos, newspapers and magazine articles all pertaining to him. His face stared at her no matter where she looked. The only comfort she took was that they weren't of the wizarding variety. She'd actually kill him if she had to look at his smirking or winking face.

"You created a bloody shrine to yourself in my lab."

It was lucky she'd scrapped all experiments the day before and that all of her cauldrons had been emptied and cleaned, otherwise Tony might've messed with something he shouldn't have and gotten injured.

"I did it for you. Honestly, you're so ungrateful," he sighed.

"Ungrateful! Ungrateful! How the Hell am I supposed to work when I've got you staring at me and half of my equipment's out of service?"

"I didn't want you to miss me whilst I'm gone," he replied flippantly and she rolled her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance. "And now, I can supervise, you know, ensure you don't do anything stupid in my absence?"

"That's not possible, all of the stupidity's on that bloody plane with you," she quipped.

"Ouch! That hurts my feelings, Granger, I'll have you know Happy's very smart," he defended.

"Oh, for the love of..." She sighed. "Happy?"

"Yes, Dr. Granger," carried the voice of Tony's bodyguard. "Smack him for me, I'm not there to do it."

"I don't believe it's good practice to harm the one I'm employed to protect," he responded, his amusement with the situation unhidden.

"If you don't, I won't bake you any more peanut butter cookies," she threatened.

It went silent for a total of seven seconds.

"You're considering it, aren't you?" She asked knowingly.

"What?!" Tony's voice rose in surprise, outrage and disappointment. "You'd risk losing your job over _cookies_?"

"You haven't tried them," argued Happy. "I swear, they're the best peanut butter cookies I've ever tasted."

"I don't believe this. Betrayal! I'm being betrayed for cookies!" Cried Tony.

"They're damn good cookies!" Protested Happy.

Hermione sniggered.

"Don't laugh. You started this! I hope you're happy with yourself!" Said Tony.

"Yes, I am, very," she confirmed. "Enjoy the remainder of your flight, don't frighten the Parisians with your squabbles."

"You... You..." He spluttered.

"Did you purposely set out to cause a disagreement?" Questioned Happy.

"Not at first," she admitted, "But I couldn't help myself."

"And the cookies?" He asked hopefully.

"Will be waiting for you when you get back," she promised.

"This is gonna be a long three days," Happy grumbled.

"Granger, take the weekend off," Tony instructed.

"What?" Her voice rose in horror at the very thought of taking time away from work.

"It's Friday, I can see from the logs you've clocked sixty hours this week. As you said, half of your equipment's out of commission and it'll take some time to get your lab back in order. I'll send someone in to clean it up over the weekend, so take the weekend off. Have some fun. Enjoy yourself. Be normal. Get drunk."

She rolled her eyes. "I have a job to do, Tony."

"Yeah, and you've clocked twenty hours overtime, take a damn break. I'm gonna have Jarvis revoke your access to all floors and facilities until Monday morning."

"What? You can't do that!" She cried.

"I can, I own the building," he pointed out. "Self-care, Granger. You work too much and you'll burn yourself out. I need you healthy and sane."

"No, I have..."

"Jarvis, revoke Granger's access to all floors and facilities," Tony ordered, interrupting her rebuttal.

"Right away, Sir," agreed the AI.

"And if she hasn't left the building in fifteen minutes, have security escort her out."

"What! Are you..."

"Billionaire out..."

"Tony? Tony? You bloody..." She let out a noise of frustration. "Did he just hang up on me?"

"Yes, I believe he did, Dr. Granger," replied Jarvis.

"Patch me through," she ordered.

"It appears he has turned off his device and he is ignoring the comms on the jet, Dr. Granger."

"Oh, that's just perfect," she grumbled, folding her arms over her chest and scowling as her eyes darted about her mistreated lab.

If she weren't so annoyed with him, she might've appreciated his prank.

"Dr. Granger?" Questioned Jarvis.

"Yes?"

"You have twelve minutes and twenty-seven seconds to leave the building or I must call security."

"I'm going to kill him," she vowed darkly.

~000~000~000~

"Granger! I know it was you!"

Hermione halted to a stop in the foyer, adjusted the collar of her pea coat and then turned to face Tony as he stalked towards her, his expression filled with fury.

"Hello, it's lovely to see you, too. How was Paris?" She greeted cheerily.

"Awful. Stop playing games, I _know_ it was."

"What was me?" She tipped her head.

"Jarvis! You _defiled_ him," he pointed an accusing finger at her, scowling down at her.

"I did no such thing," she denied.

He narrowed his eyes. "Jarvis?"

" _Ee, Yallabai?_ " Responded the AI.

"I don't see an issue," she shrugged.

"You don't see an issue? That's not even English! Hell, I don't even know _what_ language it is, so I can't even have him translated. I'll have to reset the entire system manually and he'll be out of commission for hours."

She arched an eyebrow. "Jarvis, _raira min waka_ ," she instructed.

Tony blinked slowly and took a small step back in surprise and after three seconds passed, the melody of _Eye of the Tiger_ began to play, only the words were sung in that same foreign language but the same British accent.

Tony looked about ready to have a conniption and Hermione was thoroughly enjoying herself, especially when she noticed the other employees looking about in confusion as they entered and left the building.

Folding her arms over her chest, she began humming along, her mouth twitching at the horrified expression that crossed Tony's face.

"It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight. Risin' up to the challenge of our rival..." She sang along softly in English. " _Wanda ya tsira ya san abin da yake cikin dare_. And he's watchin' us all with the eye of the tiger... _Na gode_ , Jarvis," she finished, the music shutting off and Jarvis halting in his singing.

"What the Hell was that?" Tony whispered, horrified.

"I thought that was obvious. Jarvis just gave us a lovely rendition of _Eye of the Tiger_."

"You understood him? You can speak that language? What is it? Tell me!"

"No, I rather enjoy his new default language," she grinned.

"You monster!" He spluttered. "Tell me!"

"Fine," she rolled her eyes. "But only if you beg."

"I'm not begging," he refused.

"Very well. _Ban kwana_ , Jarvis."

" _Ban kwana_ , Dr. Granger," replied the AI.

She turned and left the building, barely taking three steps before Tony appeared before her, his expression pleading.

"For God Sake. _Please_ , give me back my AI. What language is he speaking?" He begged.

She smiled victoriously. "During my studies, I spent some time travelling parts of Africa, you ever been? It's lovely, filled with culture and..."

"Get to the point, Granger," Tony interrupted.

She rolled her eyes. "Let's see if you can guess. It's a Chadic language spoken by an ethnic group of people who reside in Sub-Saharan Africa, mostly within the territories of Niger and northern Nigeria, but there are small minorities in Ghana, Sudan and Cameroon."

"I've not a clue, just tell me."

"Impatient," she tsk'ed. "I happened to meet a little girl and she introduced me to her family, lovely people. Anyway, I learned enough of the language to string together a sentence or two, and I admit, I did do a little more research before I had Jarvis change his default settings.

"I'll ban you from your lab if you don't get to the point," he scowled.

"Hausa."

"What?" His brow furrowed.

"Hausa," she repeated. "That's the language."

"I've never heard of it."

"It's spoken by approximately eighty million people, so it shouldn't be too hard to find a translator willing to help you."

"Or you could do it," he pointed out.

"I could," she agreed with a nod before turning and walking away, sniggering to herself as she heard his grumbled insults.

~000~000~000~

"Tony!" Hermione shrieked, stepping out of the lift and doing her best to waddle her way forward.

Unfortunately, she lost her balance and slipped, falling forward, banging her knees on the hard marble flooring and her hands stinging as they caught her fall. She winced in pain.

"What's all this damn noise? I'm trying to work... Oh crap!"

Hermione lifted her head, glaring at Tony as he rushed forward and crouched before her, offering his hand so he might help her up. She considered slapping it away and refusing his help, but despite her annoyance with his current practical joke, she thought it to be childish when she _did_ need the assistance. After all, she currently had a stool glued to her arse and without help, she'd only lose balance again.

"I don't believe you," she scowled, and now that she was back on her feet, she was forced to lean and rest on the stool so she was more sitting than standing.

"I didn't do anything," he denied.

"Jarvis?" Hermione prompted, folding her arms over her chest.

"Mr. Stark entered your lab at 13:07, exactly twenty-three seconds after you collected your lunch from the foyer."

"Snitch," Tony muttered. "Jarvis, remind me to programme you to lie."

"Yes, Sir," said the Ai.

"What were you thinking?" Hermione demanded.

"That you work too hard, you're always on your feet and you needed to sit and rest more," he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

Admittedly, this wasn't the worst prank he'd pulled and she supposed there'd been madness behind his method. He'd been telling her for weeks to slow down and take a breather; that whatever she was working on wouldn't and couldn't be achieved if she didn't take care of herself and she wasn't working on full brain power because she was too tired. Glueing a stool to her arse was only something else to add to the list of his methods at getting her to slow down.

"What did you use?"

"Well...?"

Her eyes narrowed, seeing his sheepish expression.

"Tony?" Her voice lowered in warning.

He laughed nervously and took a step back. "You see, I wasn't actually expecting you to sit down and by the time that you did, I thought the glue would've long since dried," he defended.

"What did you use?" She repeated.

"Industrial glue," he muttered.

"What?! As in the stuff they use in manufacturing?! God's Sake, Tony!"

"It's all I had!" His voice rose in panic.

"Okay," she took a calming breath and closed her eyes. "Okay, we can fix that. You have a dissolving solution, right?"

"Um, yeah?"

"Damn it! You don't!"

"Don't raise your voice at me!"

"Then don't be a bloody idiot and glue me to a stool without having the dissolvent. It can cause some serious damage if it's soaked through my jeans and to my skin, I'll have to go to the hospital!"

"I'll pay the bill," he offered guiltily.

"I swear to God, I'm going to hex you!" She hissed.

"Hex me?" His brow furrowed.

"I'm a witch, witches hex people," she argued.

"Jarvis, book a consultation with Dr. Oswald, I believe the glue fumes have gone to Granger's head."

"Right away, Sir."

"He's joking, Jarvis," Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. "Jarvis, can you order industrial glue dissolvent, please?"

"Yes, Dr. Granger... The earliest it can be delivered is 18:00."

"Fantastic, I'm stuck like this for four bloody hours!"

"On the bright side, you can take this time to relax. Sit back, kick your feet up, eat some snacks and watch TV. Here, you can use mine," said Tony.

Hermione squeaked when her stool slid over the marble floor as Tony pushed it towards the large corner suite couch and the even larger TV that sat before it. In fact, she'd never seen one so big.

"You want a bigger TV?" She snarked.

"If they offer one, sure," he agreed. "I had to have that one custom made."

"Of course, you did," she sighed. "It's only Wednesday," she whined.

"Relax, take a breather, it'll be fine. Here, watch whatever you want, just no boring scientific discoveries or documentaries," he pushed the remote into her hand. "I'll be right back."

Scowling down at the remote in her hand, she resigned herself to the fact she was just going to have to do as he'd suggested. She didn't think he'd give her a book and if she did manage to sneak one in he'd just take it off her whilst questioning where it had come from. As she flicked through the _many_ channels, she noted that nothing caught her attention and given the time of day, it was mostly soap operas and reruns of programmes she's never heard of before.

"Here."

Tony appeared beside her, unceremoniously dumped a large bowl in her arms and then all but dived onto the couch, settling himself into the cushions as he held his own bowl. Looking down at it, she noted it was popcorn.

"Popcorn, seriously?"

"You need to switch off that brain of yours and watch some mind-numbing TV, and it's best done with popcorn."

"Popcorn's disgusting," she argued. "It has an awful texture, leaves a weird aftertaste _and_ gets stuck in your teeth."

He looked up to her before he set his bowl on the cushion beside him and then he leaned over and reached up, pressing the back of his hand against her forehead, a frown marring his features.

"What are you doing?" She batted his hand away and leaned further away from him.

"Checking your temperature, you're clearly not well. What d'you mean you don't like popcorn? What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me," she scowled at him. "Popcorn _is_ disgusting," she said adamantly.

"Jarvis, call a doctor, Granger's clearly delusional."

"No, Jarvis, don't," she interrupted before he could reply. "Aside from the fact I'm glued to a bloody stool, there's nothing wrong with me. And there's nothing wrong with not liking popcorn."

"Fine, be ungrateful," he shrugged, leaning back into the couch and reaching for his bowl. "What've you settled on?"

"You're staying? I thought you had work to do?" She tipped her head.

"Nah, I don't trust you not to try and wander off and sneak back to your lab. Besides, I've hit a bit of bump in my newest project and could use a break. Have you checked the movie channels?"

"There's nothing on."

"Bullshit, there's hundreds of channels. Give me the remote."

"No, you gave it to me so I could choose."

"Well now I'm taking it back," he argued, reaching for it but she smacked his hand away and before she knew it, they were fighting over the remote.

So much for relaxation.

~000~000~000~

"Granger!"

Hermione bit her lip and held back a snigger as the angry tone came through the speakers.

"Yes, Tony?" She replied.

"Get your ass up here now!"

"Is there something wrong?" She asked innocently.

"You know damn well there is. Get here now or I'm launching you off the helipad," he angrily promised.

She opened her mouth to respond but the line cut off before she could. Taking a breath, setting her expression into one of innocence and confusion, she headed for the lift and travelled the short distance of one floor.

She'd barely stepped out when her eyes were assaulted and honestly, it couldn't have gone better. George had assured her there was no possible way to change the colour of someone's skin, only the hair follicles, something he had plenty of experience with. Hermione had disagreed and she'd worked hard to prove him wrong. She'd have to send a vial containing the memory to him as soon as she had the time. He'd be beside himself with her invention.

"You did this to me!" Tony hissed, his eyes flashing and whilst it was evident he was furious, she wasn't blind to the confusion and curiosity of how she'd managed such a thing, especially without him noticing. After all, it wasn't as if she'd snuck into his bedroom when he was sleeping and she'd physically painted him.

"What happened?" She questioned, her brow furrowing. "Are you okay? You're looking a little... _Blue_."

A snort sounded from the kitchen area and it was quickly followed by muffled laughter.

"You did this!" He accused, staring down at her.

"And how? How did I do this?" She challenged.

"I don't know," he confessed. "But I know it was you. Who else could it have been?"

"You know, you remind me of someone... Hang on..."

She reached into her lab coat pocket and drew back with a pair of round black glasses before she reached up and slipped them onto his nose and over his ears.

"Ah, that's who," she nodded. "Brainy Smurf, is that really you?"

"Granger!" He hissed but Hermione was far from frightened and louder muffled laughter once more sounded from the kitchen, and she could've sworn she'd heard the sound of a photo being taken. "Happy, delete that now!" He ordered, his eyes remaining locked on hers. "Fix this," he demanded.

"I can't fix this, I don't even know how this happened."

"Don't lie to me, I know it was you and you have to fix this. I have a conference call with Japan in two hours. Pepper's been on my ass for weeks 'cause I keep rescheduling and cancelling. If I show up like this, she'll _murder_ me."

"I'm sure she'll understand," Hermione offered. "I'm sure I've heard of a medical condition that turns the skin a bluish-purple, perhaps you have that? You might want to be seen to by a doctor."

"There's not a chance in Hell I'm leaving here like this. And you _are_ a fully qualified medical doctor! Just fix me, I know you know how."

"Maybe," she nodded. "But I want something in return."

"What?! You did this, it's your mess, you fix it."

"No, it's _your_ mess. You're the one that started it, Violet Beauregarde," she quipped.

Wheezing sounded from the kitchen, followed by hands hitting against the countertop.

"Calm the fuck down, Happy, you're gonna have a heart attack," Tony called over his shoulder, again, his gaze locked with hers. "Fine, you wanna hear it? I can't take it anymore. You win! Truce! No more pranks."

"I did warn you," she shrugged one shoulder. "Everything that's happened is your own doing. You've only got yourself to blame."

"Yeah, I'm an idiot, you're smarter than me, blah blah blah. Just fix it."

"Orange juice," she said simply.

"What?" His expression fell.

"Orange juice, drink some, approximately half a glass should do it."

"You're telling me the cure to this... Whatever it is... Is a glass of _orange_ _juice_?" He questioned in disbelief.

"Yep," she popped the 'p'. "Simple, Bob's your Uncle, Fanny's your Aunt and you're blue."

"I hate you," he grumbled, turning away and stalking towards the kitchen.

"No, you don't," she said confidently, following him and leaning against the kitchen island, watching as he dug through the fridge and spying Happy perched on a stool as he wiped at his reddened face, removing the tears of laughter. "You're jealous you don't know how to do such a thing."

He turned around to face her, a scowl on his face but seeing her arched eyebrow and her smirk, it soon faded, being replaced by a smile tugging at his mouth.

"Only a little," he confessed. "How'd you do it?"

"So you can terrorise everyone? I'm not telling you."

He pouted as he poured himself a glass of orange juice before downing half of it in one go, Hermione noting he kept his eyes on his hand, watching for the change.

"It'll wear off in about ten minutes," she promised.

Tony set the glass on the counter before he turned to look at Happy, seeing him eating a cookie.

"These the super-duper-best-in-the-world-you'll-never-taste-a-cookie-like-it cookies?" He asked, reaching into the zip lock bag she'd given Happy that morning, Hermione seeing the bodyguard's face fall before he attempted to swot Tony's hand away, only he wasn't fast enough and he escaped with a cookie.

Tony brought it up to his mouth and almost ate it in one go, chewing thoughtfully before his eyes widened.

"Damn!" He said around a mouthful of cookie. "No wonder you'd consider getting fired over a cookie. I'd fire myself," he admitted.

Hermione sniggered when Tony reached for another one, only Happy was faster this time and he all but darted from the kitchen and to the lift, a zip lock bag of cookies in hand and leaving behind Tony blinking slowly.

"I swear, I've never seen him move so fast. If only he was as protective of me as he is of those cookies."

"Don't be jealous."

"I'm not jealous," he denied.

"You're as jealous as you are blue."

"Granger!"

She sniggered, a smirk pulling at her mouth as she began humming.

"What is that?" Tony's brow furrowed, trying to identify the tune.

"Yo listen up, here's a story, about a little guy who lives in a blue world..."

"Seriously?" He grouched.

She grinned, continuing with, "I'm blue da ba dee da ba daa. Da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa. Da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa."

"I'm going to kill you," he grumbled, sulkily drinking the last of his orange juice before glaring down at his blue-tinted skin.

"You know, we just need a white hat and you'll have a wonderful smurf cosplay costume. I'd easily mistake you for brainy smurf."

"Granger!" He warned.

"What?" She asked innocently. "At least it wasn't grouchy smurf or even baby smurf, both currently suit your behaviour. Hey, if we snap a photo and send it to the creators of the smurfs, they might be so inspired they base a new character on you. Imagine the potential! Arrogant smurf? Goatee Smurf? Billionaire smurf?"

She made a bee-line for the lift when Tony removed a fork from one of the drawers, his expression indicating he had every intention of stabbing her with it.

~000~000~000~

On the Friday that marked the end of her first month with Stark Industries, she stepped into her lab, removed her coat and replaced it with her lab coat before she noticed the envelope and gift box, suspiciously placed on her workbench.

She approached slowly, cautiously, waiting for them to explode in her face with paint, glitter, smoke or any other component Tony might use. They'd agreed on a truce, no more pranks, and it had been over a week since she'd claimed victory, but she wasn't stupid. She didn't trust Tony as far as she could throw him and she'd been on guard since, waiting for him to strike.

"Jarvis? There's an envelope and gift box on my workbench."

"Mr. Stark left that for you this morning, Dr. Granger," replied the AI. "He wished to give it to you in person but he was unexpectedly called away on business."

"Is it a prank?"

"No, I don't believe so."

Relaxing slightly, she drew her stool from beneath the workbench and perched atop it, reaching for the note that lay over the envelope and flipping it open. Her eyes did a quick sweep, recognising Tony's handwriting and she always found it amusing and annoying that he couldn't seem to decide between writing in lower case or uppercase as he alternated between the two.

 _Granger_ ,

_You've made it through your first month with Stark Industries, and now that you no longer have to impress me, stop working so damn much. I've instructed Jarvis to revoke your access to the Tower (don't roll your eyes at me) until Monday, starting from 09:00. Take some time for yourself, and don't spend it all in one place. Don't do anything I wouldn't do and for God Sake, enjoy yourself. You've earned it._

Putting the note aside and being completely unsurprised by him banning her for the weekend, especially since this was the third week in a row he'd done so, she reached for the envelope and opened it, revealing a wad of one hundred dollar bills.

She actually choked and had to pat herself on the chest as she coughed and spluttered, her eyes watering and her throat hurting, as she quickly realised the amount in the envelope was more than she'd been expecting, and it was certainly more than she'd been paid by SHIELD.

Despite working for a secret spy organisation on the down low and despite the hours she put in, she was only paid the salary of a government employee, the same as the rest of the employees and Agents. Whilst she wasn't in it for the money, she admitted the wage was rubbish and she could earn more with her free-lance projects whilst working fewer hours.

She and Tony had never specifically discussed her wage, Hermione expecting to be paid the same rate as she had been at SHIELD. But looking at the amount currently in her hand, it was nowhere near her previous wage. In fact, she was currently staring at forty thousand dollars. As a monthly wage! That was ten grand a week!

"Jarvis, patch me through to Tony," she muttered, struggling to clear her head of the surprise and disbelief.

"Mr. Stark has instructed me to block all of your attempts to reach him. He said and I quote, 'Granger, calm the hell down. It's just money, I'm a billionaire, I've a belt that cost more than your wage. I don't know what you're working on but I know you're worth the price. But don't tell anyone, they'll get jealous and I'll have a strike on my hands. I don't have the time to deal with riots and chanting, I've got a headache just thinking about it. Take the weekend to yourself, have a spa day, visit friends, go shopping, I don't care, just stay away from the Tower and get some rest. You've worked more hours than I have this month... Jarvis, make sure she's out of the lab by 09:00'."

"Thank you, Jarvis," she mumbled, giving her head a shake.

Honestly, the man was insane!

Setting the envelope aside and struggling to take her eyes from it, she reached for the gift box and with her guard lowered, she hoped it wasn't booby-trapped. Removing the lid and peering inside, Hermione could honestly say she didn't give a toss about the money, what lay inside the box mattered most to her.

She peered down at a plate sitting a slice of white chocolate cheesecake and a slice of red velvet cake.

He'd remembered.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 9

The following Monday, as the sky grew dark and the Tower quiet as all employees left for the evening, Hermione stepped out of the lift and said,

"Jarvis, has Tony eaten recently?"

"Mr. Stark has not eaten since yesterday evening, he has been in his work station all day. I believe he has made a breakthrough with one of his projects."

"Thanks, Jarvis," she replied, purposely striding towards Tony's work station, the door sliding open.

Stopping in the doorway, she leaned against the wall, her arms folding over her chest, seeing Tony hunched over at a workbench, Hermione noting that his movements were slower than usual, sluggish. He was exhausted.

"Tony," she called, having to raise her voice to draw his attention.

He lifted his head and looked at her over his shoulder, blinking slowly, his expression tired and confused.

"Granger? I haven't heard from you all day, any problems?"

"No, everything's been fine. I thought I'd check on you, seeing as you've been quieter than usual."

"Quiet?" He tipped his head.

"Hmmm, no annoying calls and interruptions and no unexpected visits. Jarvis has told me you haven't left here all day; apparently you've made a breakthrough."

His eyes lit up in excitement and his mouth pulled into a smile as he swivelled on his stool to better face her. "I'm working on a way for my suit to withstand high pressured environments, and I should have a prototype by Wednesday."

"That's great, now, take a break."

"What?" His expression fell.

"A _break_ , Tony," she repeated. "Self-care. You're always harping on at me about how I need to take better care of myself, I think it's time you practice what you preach. Jarvis said you haven't eaten today, at all, so, I bought dinner." She held the brown paper bag up as evidence, seeing his eyes dart to it.

" _You bought me dinner?_ " He questioned slowly, seeming to be having trouble digesting the news.

"Yes, I bought you dinner," she confirmed. "Why are you so surprised by this? You never had a woman buy you dinner before?" She arched an eyebrow.

"No, I don't think so," he admitted. "Billionaire," he shrugged his shoulders, as if that was the only explanation he needed to give.

"So they expect you to pay? That's awful," her brow furrowed. "Never mind, well, dinner is served. I ordered from Emma's."

"You went out in that?" He tipped his head to the right, gesturing towards the downpour of rain that pelted against the windows and had been for hours. She wouldn't be surprised if there was some flooding.

"No, I had it delivered."

"They don't deliver," he pointed out.

"I know, so I called ahead and tipped a taxi driver extra to pick it up and bring it here," she shrugged.

"It's only a few blocks away," his mouth twitched in amusement.

"I'm not going out in _that_ , I'm so tiny I'd be swept away," she argued and he snorted. "Come on, your cheeseburgers are getting cold."

She pushed away from the wall and stepped out of the way, allowing Tony to walk ahead so he might choose if they ate in the kitchen or on the couch.

"How'd you know I like cheeseburgers?"

"Doesn't everyone?" She arched an eyebrow. "Besides, not only have I noticed a large amount of fast-food wrappers in the bin, mostly cheeseburgers, I might've asked Happy," she admitted.

He led them straight to the couch and whilst he took a seat and switched on the TV, she set the paper bag on the table and removed the food containers and the milkshakes, chocolate for Tony and strawberry for herself.

After searching through the channels, he'd settled on what looked to be a comedy film and when he leaned back into the cushions and propped his feet up on the glass coffee table, she handed him his food along with the ketchup packets. Settling back and making herself comfortable, she reached for her own food and they ate in silence, their eyes locked on the TV.

With their food eaten and the containers discarded, Hermione turned her eyes to Tony, seeing him half-lying and half-propped up, his head being supported by his fist.

"What?" He asked, barely sparing her a glance but feeling her stare.

"Why'd you pay me so much money?" She finally asked.

He rolled his eyes, reached for the remote, paused the TV and then looked to her.

"It's too much, _far_ too much," she protested. "That's more than most earn _annually_."

"Do you know how many hours you worked last month?" He asked curiously.

"I don't keep track," she admitted. "I worked twelve hour shifts when at SHIELD, usually five to six days a week, unless I was sent out into the field. It's why I had numerous assistants, so they could alternate shift patterns to keep up with the hours I worked."

"You know you're only human, right?" He arched an eyebrow. "You keep going this way and you'll burn yourself out, even if you do enjoy the work... Jarvis, help the lady out," he instructed.

"Dr. Granger, records show that over the previous month, you spent two hundred and seven hours, thirteen minutes and forty-five seconds in your lab," answered Jarvis.

"That's not including the time taken out for breaks or the time you've been up here with me, and even with the three weekends I _forced_ you to stay away from the Tower, you've still clocked more hours than any other member of staff," said Tony. "Stark Industries has thousands of employees and the total average of hours clocked across the board monthly is one hundred and seventy-three. That puts you thirty-three hours _above_ average. You've clocked more hours than Pepper and she's the damn CEO, and even she has a life. She takes time for herself and that's something you need to do."

"And despite the high volume of employees, and despite my lack of understanding on what it is you actually do, you are one of the most qualified people in my employment, second only to myself... In fact, you might actually have _more_ qualifications than I do, and I'm a certified genius."

"And so humble, too," she quipped and he snorted at her. "And I understand that I work exceptionally long hours and that this is classed as the private sector and any wage I receive is likely to be more than my previous government salary, but I wasn't expecting _that_ much. Imagine the bloody tax!"

He snorted. "I'll pay you double if you tell me how you turned me blue without paint or genetically altering my DNA, and without touching me."

"No," she said firmly.

He pouted. "Fine, but anyway, as I said, don't go spreading the word about your wage, I can't be done with the uproar and striking."

"Should I expect a similar amount at the end of this month?"

" _Minimum_ ," he agreed. "Forty grand's nothing to me, I make approximately six hundred thousand dollars an hour," he shrugged.

She choked. She physically choked.

~000~000~000~

Two weeks later, Hermione wasn't certain how it had happened. Honestly, she had no clue and she hadn't seen it coming either. But in the two weeks that had passed since that Monday evening impromptu dinner and movie session with Tony, things had changed.

Before, he'd been her boss and she, his employee, nothing more. Well, maybe it was a little _more_ , she admitted. After all, who argued and had a three week long prank war with their billionaire boss without getting fired? But since that Monday evening, her relationship with Tony was more than professional, more than boss and employee. She could safely say, they were friends. Honest to God _friends_.

When she'd first received the news that she was being shipped off to work for Tony Stark, she could admit that she hadn't been pleased, not in the least. And whilst he was the type of man she'd been expecting, he wasn't at the same time. Did that make sense?

He was arrogant and annoying, _very_ annoying, and he was a certifiable genius which sometimes made it hard to communicate with him. He was everything she'd read him to be. But then he was also funny (even if he was sometimes annoying with it) and he had a big heart, one he'd carefully hidden and built walls around. She knew, she'd done it herself after being betrayed and hurt one too many times over the years. He cracked jokes and used humour and arrogance to hide his pain and betrayal. But there was more to Tony Stark, things that people didn't see unless they were as observant as she was, things that he kept hidden and things that could only be seen by spending long periods of time around him, something she'd been doing recently.

And honestly, he was a good friend. Given her career with SHIELD, she admittedly kept to herself and she'd always struggled socially and because of that, she hadn't made many friends. With her move to Manhattan and Stark Industries, she worked even longer hours, didn't have assistants to converse with (only Jarvis and he was a remarkable conversationalist she'd come to realise) and she lived out of a hotel, still not having had any luck in finding something more permanent. But Tony, he was a good friend, something that had taken her some time to realise.

He was a combination of George and Harry. He had George's ingenious way of thinking and his mischievous, chaotic energy, but then he possessed Harry's calming presence, his contemplative nature and quiet, even if Tony was one of the loudest people she'd met. And those qualities, they reminded her of those she'd left behind, they drew her closer to him.

His chaos against her calm, his loudness against her quiet, his outlandish ideas against her practicality, it helped to build a quick and fast friendship. He forced her to go home when the evenings grew late and she often pulled him from his work, forcing him to eat, both taking the time to remind the other about maintaining their health. Their conversations were also interesting, even if he spoke for hours on a subject Hermione hadn't the foggiest about or had no hope for understanding given her own background. And though he did often touch on the subject of her work, he didn't press when she was hesitant to answer, something that she appreciated.

And it was little things like that, the little signs of consideration that had Hermione's trust in him growing. Trust that would soon lead to her being comfortable enough to reveal the truth about herself, and she couldn't wait for his reaction given how adamant he was about the inexistence of magic and witches.

"UNO!"

"Damn it!" Grumbled Tony, throwing his remaining cards onto the pile in a huff.

"Haha! You suck, Stark!"

"Oh, very mature," he folded his arms.

"Say's the man pouting like a child."

"I'm not pouting," he argued.

"Tell that to the lip jutting out," she said smugly, sniggering when he scowled and deliberately drew his bottom lip between his teeth to stop him from pouting.

"Seriously, it's Friday night, what're you doing here with me playing Uno and Goldfish? Go home, put on a party frock and get yourself to the club."

This was a common occurrence between them. More often than not, they'd have dinner together, watch a movie or find themselves arguing as they played board or card games before she took her leave late into the night, only to return to the Tower in the early morning and the process repeated itself.

That Friday, the Tower was empty but for herself, Tony and the men that manned the guard station, acting as another security measure despite all the others that were in place. With it being Friday, the Tower always emptied quicker of its occupants than any other weekday, and after it had grown dark she'd headed to the floor above where she and Tony had ordered Chinese and watched a movie on the TV before the cards were brought out.

"Trying to get rid of me?" She tipped her head. "Honestly, is it so hard to believe that I _like_ being around you? Even if you are the most annoying genius in the world?"

"I resent that," he lifted his chin and she sniggered. "But at least you recognise my brilliance."

"I'm not the partying type of girl..."

"You? No, I don't believe that," he interrupted sarcastically and in response, she threw a pretzel at him. He simply opened his mouth, caught it and winked at her scowl of annoyance as he began chewing.

"I don't enjoy large crowds of people, I haven't since I was little, but even more so since... Well, it doesn't matter," she cleared her throat, seeing his curiously furrowed brow at her choosing that moment to hesitate. "I much prefer quiet nights like this," she shrugged. "And I'm having just as much fun kicking your arse at a card game than I would be getting drunk in a claustrophobic, stinky, sweaty club where strangers might try to feel me up."

"You're not kicking my _arse_ ," he argued, speaking in an overly dramatic and mocking British accent.

"I've fourteen wins to your big fat doughnut of a zero, and we've only been playing for an hour," she pointed out.

He narrowed his eyes. "That's it, I'm bringing out the big guns," he warned.

He collected the Uno cards into a neat deck before setting them on the table and he reached for the playing cards, giving them a good shuffle.

"Poker."

"I'm great at poker," she replied confidently.

"We'll see," he shrugged, shifting to get more comfortable and as they faced each other on the couch, their legs crossed and pulled up onto the cushions, he dealt the cards on the cushion that separated them.

"How the Hell?!" He cried. Hermione smiled smugly and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "You're cheating!" He pointed an accusing finger, almost an hour after he'd dealt the first hand and in that time, he'd won only three hands.

"I am not," she said indignantly. "It's not my fault you're rubbish. If we were playing for money, I'd have bankrupted you by now. I suggest you stay away from the casinos, with luck like yours it's bound to rub off on other people. You're the black plague of bad luck."

"Take that back!"

"No, it's the truth. You think I'm cheating? Let's try something else, blackjack? I'll deal," she held her hand out expectantly.

"No way am I letting you deal," he scoffed.

She rolled her eyes but didn't argue further, watching in amusement as he gave the deck a good shuffle so there was no possible way she could cheat. As he did that, she was briefly distracted by the ring tone of her phone, a phone she very rarely used but always kept on her person for cases of emergency. A phone that was only programmed with two contacts; Harry and Nick Fury.

Frowning in concern, expecting the caller to be Harry given that she and SHIELD were no longer on speaking terms, she was quick to dig it from her handbag, seeing Tony's curious expression as he paused in his shuffling of the cards.

As she drew back with the old flip phone, one of the only pieces of technology that didn't blow up in her face and could be used for short periods of time without doing so, she flipped it open and pressed it against her ear.

"Granger," said Nick Fury, not giving her the time to reply, "What took you so damn long, I don't have all day?" He said gruffly. "We have a situation."

Hermione leaned back into the armrest of the couch. "And you're telling me this because...?" She prompted. "I no longer work for you, not since you sold me to the highest bidder."

"Still salty, I see," he replied.

"You bet your arse I am. You sold me like I was a bloody prized cow, not a human being. We had a contract, an agreement and your people broke it. The big boss wasn't happy when he discovered the news, and no, I didn't tattle on you, you're not the only one with eyes and ears everywhere. It took me days to convince him not to start a damn political war because I don't have the time or energy for it, and I hate being caught in the middle between you. The whole point of the treaty was that I work for _you_ , not someone else, especially without my prior knowledge or agreement."

"What're you complaining about? You've got benefits, healthcare, a pay rise," he listed.

"I don't give a toss about that, Fury, you know that. I don't need the money and I don't need the health care benefits, I'm a bloody _doctor_! I'm hurt that you felt you could treat me as though I'm less than human, I've had people doing that for the majority of my life and I've had to fight for my place in society, for the right to live and exist. I never expected such behaviour from you."

He grumbled something she didn't understand before sighing. "Look, can we argue about this later? I need your help with this."

"Why should I? And don't you dare use the line 'it's for the greater good'. I'm sick of hearing that shit."

"I'm asking for your help. Not ordering you, _asking_ , and if you do this, I'll owe. You'll be out of the country for a few days."

"I don't know, Fury, I no longer work for you, it's up to my new _boss_ if I can have time off."

"Granger..." He growled in warning.

Hermione rolled her eyes before covering the speaker with her hand and looking to Tony's arched eyebrow, the billionaire being highly intrigued by what he'd heard on her side of things.

"It seems my previous employer requires my immediate assistance," she began. "He wants to know if you'll be kind enough to grant me a period of leave."

"Jarvis," said Tony, "How many hours has Granger clocked so far this month?"

Hermione glared at him.

"Dr. Granger has achieved a total of one hundred and six hours, thirty-seven minutes and fourteen seconds in the last ten days."

"Is that so?" He mused, his mouth tugging into a smirk when Hermione's glare hardened. "Granger, I thought we'd agreed that you'd be working fewer hours so you might take better care of yourself. Shame on you," he chided.

"Say no, say no," she mouthed.

"Take as much time as you need," he smiled innocently.

"I'm going to murder you," she hissed, her eyes flashing before she took a calming breath and uncovered the speaker. "Location?" She questioned, brightening her tone.

"I see you two haven't killed each other yet," he commented.

"There's still time," she promised, giving Tony the finger as he smirked at her, something thought brought forth sniggers.

"There'll be a car waiting for you outside of Stark Tower in seven minutes. All details will be given once you're air born."

The line cut off and Hermione scoffed before snapping her phone shut. "Goodbye to you, too," she snarked.

Sighing, she unfolded her legs and set her feet on the ground, reaching for her shoes and slipping them on.

"There were a few interesting details in that conversation," Tony commented lightly.

"Later, I have to go, thanks for nothing."

"You're welcome," he grinned. She scowled at him. "Now you have the opportunity to poke Fury in the eye, as you'd sworn to do."

"Not likely, he rarely comes on expeditions."

"So, what's the deal?" He asked nosily.

"I don't know," she shrugged, reaching for her coat and slipping it on. "That's the thing with SHIELD, they're annoyingly secretive."

"If you won't tell me I'll just hack into their systems again," he threatened.

"Go for it," she encouraged. "But I have no idea what's going on and won't until I'm debriefed, and hacking into SHIELD would be a waste of your time. Whenever I'm involved in an expedition or project, it's always kept from the system." She stood to her feet, lifted her handbag and set her phone inside. "I'll see you, hopefully in a few days, I can't stand being around those secretive, emotionless prats for too long. Take care of yourself whilst I'm gone."

"I take care of myself just fine," he protested.

Looking him dead in the eye, she said, "Jarvis, make sure he eats at least two meals a day, even if you have to bar him from his work station."

"Yes, Dr. Granger," replied the AI.

"I don't need looking after," Tony argued.

"Sir, I must agree with Dr. Granger. You do have a tendency of not ensuring your health when distracted with your work."

"Great, the Brits are banding together," Tony grumbled.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Try not to miss me when I'm gone."

"And why would I miss you?" He folded his arms over his chest.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm your best friend."

"No, you're not."

She arched an eyebrow. "Best British friend?"

"Nope."

"Jarvis doesn't count," she rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'm your best _female British_ friend," she settled on, taking her leave for the lift.

As she stepped inside, she heard Tony say, "Jarvis, track her movements by any means necessary. Keep an eye on her and warn me should anything happen."

"Yes, Sir."

Hermione smiled to herself.

He did care.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 15

"AHHH!" Hermione cried out. "Jesus Bloody Christ!"

She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her heart pounding against her palm rapidly, trying to escape her ribcage and she glared daggers at Tony as she tried to calm herself.

Stepping into her lab at seven o'clock in the morning, she hadn't been expecting to walk straight into Tony Stark's chest. He stood before her, his arms folded over his chest, his eyes narrowed and his expression frighteningly blank.

"Don't do that!" She snapped.

He pursed his lips, his brow furrowing slightly. "Seven days."

"What?"

"Seven days!" His voice rose slightly. "You said you'd be gone a 'few days'. That's three, four at a push, not seven days!"

"You said to take all the time I needed," she reminded. Her eyes scanned his tensely wound form before she arched an eyebrow. "Were you worried about me?" She asked with a teasing tone.

He scowled before he lowered his arms and reached out, one hand encircling her wrist before he tugged her towards the lift, ignoring her splutters, indignation, questions and attempts to break free as he accessed his own floor of the Tower. Silently, he tugged her out of the lift and straight to his work station, dragging her behind him as though she were a disobedient child.

"What the Hell?!" She demanded unhappily.

"Stand there, don't move," he instructed, giving a slight shove until she stumbled back, right onto a metal platform that lowered further into the ground under her weight.

"Tony..."

"Shhh," he shushed her, stepping back and folding his arms over his chest, doing a remarkable job of remaining unphased by her terrifying glare. "Take it away, Jarvis."

Hermione blinked slowly when noise and light suddenly surrounded her, a red horizontal line appearing to be the most prominent as it started at her feet and slowly ascended past the top of her head before lowering once more, the process repeating several times.

"Wait? Are you _scanning_ me?" She questioned in disbelief.

"Shhh... Jarvis, results?"

"Dr. Granger appears to be in perfect health," replied the disembodied AI, Hermione noting the slight movement of Tony's shoulders slumping in relief.

"Seriously?" She set her hands on her hips and arched an eyebrow, being thankful when the noise stopped and the lights disappeared.

"What were you doing?"

She rolled her eyes. "I can't tell you."

"You work for me now, not SHIELD."

"That might be true, but I signed an NDA, I can't tell anyone what I was doing."

"Where were you? Jarvis was able to trace your movements for only five blocks and then you _vanished into thin air_."

"I can't tell you that either."

"What _can_ you tell me?"

"Nothing," she shrugged. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "You were worried about me, weren't you?" She said knowingly, without the teasing she'd used before.

"Well, you _are_ my best British female friend," he muttered, turning and stepping out of his work station, leaving her staring after him in surprise at his admittance.

"Did you miss me?" She called after him.

"Not even a little bit!"

"Liar! I didn't miss you either."

"Liar!"

~000~000~000~

"Dr. Granger?"

"Yes, Jarvis?" Hermione answered the AI, her attention solely on the bubbling cauldron before her, a clipboard in hand as she took notes on the consistency, colour, smell and volume of smoke and fumes it emitted.

She was making some headway in one of her experiments and she was hoping that within a few weeks, she'd have finally found a workable solution.

"Mr. Stark requests your presence."

"Tell him I'll be there as soon as possible, I can't leave my lab unattended."

"Dr. Granger, Mr. Stark is very insistent that he requires your presence immediately."

"Merlin's Sake," she grumbled. "He better be bloody dying."

Setting her clipboard aside, she drew her wand from her pocket and cast a series of charms over the cauldron to stabilise it until she returned. Stepping away from her work station and pocketing her wand, she lifted her head, blinking in surprise when she saw the darkness outside. She looked to the wall, seeing the clock showed it was after nine o'clock. The last time she'd looked up, it had only been four o'clock.

Rolling her eyes at herself for losing track of time as she so often did, she headed for the lift, stepping out on the floor above.

"I swear, Tony, if you're not dying, I'll kill you for dragging me away from my highly volatile experiment."

"Care to explain this," he replied, looking at her over the back of the couch, his features pulled into a confused, unhappy frown.

Tipping her head, she approached and rounded the couch, her eyes widening and her mouth parting. The TV was switched on, supplying background noise, he was lying on the couch with his feet propped up on the glass coffee table and fast food wrappers sat in the empty bag. Given the food, his lounging position and his askew hair and clothing, Hermione believed he'd recently woken up.

But sprawled across his lap was a peacefully sleeping ragdoll, her white-grey fur a fluffy mass and her grey face buried beneath her white paws. Hermione knew piercing blue eyes were hidden beneath her closed eyelids and a pink bejewelled collar was hidden by the mass of fur.

If she was honest, pink wouldn't have been her first option but it had been a gift from James and Albus, her two Godsons having chosen it themselves for her familiar, who had been a gift from Harry for her birthday, and again, she'd been chosen by James. The half-ragdoll, half-kneazle was approximately five-years-old and had been her companion for almost four years, Harry gifting her to her on her twenty-eighth birthday. Her familiar, who'd she'd named Sally, was similar to Crookshanks in the way that she was untrusting of others and she was incredibly protective of her mistress as all familiars were.

However, unlike Crookshanks, Sally much preferred to use avoidance as a tactic, unlike his aggression. She was quiet, so quiet Hermione often forgot she had her. Sally was independent but that didn't mean she didn't enjoy a snuggle or that she wasn't affectionate with the people she trusted, and Hermione could list the names on only one hand. For her to be sleeping so peacefully and comfortably on Tony's lap, was something Hermione didn't think she'd see.

Usually, she was wary around unfamiliar people and wary around those she was familiar with, even her Godchildren who adored and spoiled her familiar and Hermione had yet to see her so comfortable with anyone but herself, until that very moment, that is. The cause of her suspicion and quiet nature? She was a rescue and had been abused by her previous owner and it had taken weeks for Hermione to earn her trust. Men, she hated men the most and so seeing her so comfortable with Tony was an incredibly rare sight.

"Granger," Tony drew her attention, his scowl darting between her and the cat sprawled on his lap.

"What? It's a cat," she replied.

He pursed his lips in annoyance. "I can see that. How the Hell did it get _in_ here?"

That was a good question, Hermione thought. In order to leave her lab, a passcode, key card and confirmed handprint was required. That made it difficult for people to come and go, so how did a cat manage it? Hermione tipped her head thoughtfully, kneazles were known to be smart and were known to possess magic of their own, but it had yet to be discovered how that worked, why it did and what it was capable of.

"I don't know," she answered honestly.

"Take your damn fleabag and get it out of my building," he scowled.

"How d'you know she's mine?" She arched an eyebrow.

He glared before burrowing his hand beneath the sleeping cat's neck, digging through the mass of soft fur until he found the metal tag hanging from the collar. Surprisingly, Sally didn't wake, in fact, she shifted to get more comfortable, Hermione fighting back a snigger when Tony gave the slumbering cat a look of annoyance.

"Hermione Granger," he began, "And if I'm not mistaken, that's your number."

She shrugged and slipped her hands into the pockets of her lab coat, shifting on her feet until she found a more comfortable position of standing.

"Alright, she's mine," she admitted.

"Evidently, though I'm not surprised, you seem the type to be a crazy cat lady."

She scowled at him. "I have _one_ cat," she argued.

"Now you do, give it a few years. What the Hell is it doing here?"

She shrugged before moving to sit on the couch, kicking off her shoes and tugging her feet beneath her as she leaned back into the cushions, propping her head up with her hand as her elbow rested on the back of the couch.

"There's no policy against animals being on the premises, I checked," she pointed out. "And I had nowhere to take her. This morning I was kicked out of my hotel."

"Wait, what?" His brow furrowed and he turned slightly to better face her, shooting a glance down to the cat that didn't move an inch at the movement, before he looked to her once more, his annoyance seemingly forgotten for the time being. "Your _hotel_?"

"Hmmm," she hummed. "I'm living out of a hotel."

"You've been here for almost two months, and you haven't found a place to live yet?" He questioned in surprise.

"No, I haven't," she confirmed. "When I moved from London to work with SHIELD, housing was provided for me and so there was no need to find somewhere to live. I was only made aware of my _transfer_ to Stark Industries two days before I was expected, take into account the little time I had to pack up and travel time..." She trailed off allowing him to come to his own conclusion. "SHIELD footed the hotel bill for two weeks, and I've been paying my own way since," she shrugged. "Of course, I've been kicked out of four hotels in two months."

"Why?"

In response, Hermione gestured to the sleeping cat on his lap. "No pet policy. She's easy to sneak in and hide out of sight but after a couple of weeks, she's spotted by a maid or another guest, they snitch and I'm told to leave. And that happened this morning, which is why she's here. I haven't had time to check into another hotel and sneak her in because I came straight here. Honestly, she's no bother. She's so quiet I barely know she's there. She's been locked in the bedroom all day, she probably got bored or lonely so I'm not surprised she escaped and found her way up here. She's sneaky and very clever, hence..." She gestured to his lap once more. "And you should be flattered."

"I have a fleabag moulting on my _sixty thousand dollar_ couch, why the Hell should I be flattered?"

She rolled her eyes. "Only you would feel the need to have a sixty thousand dollar couch, I can guarantee I can get an exact replica for a tenth of the price. What's it made from? Panda? And she doesn't have fleas and neither does she moult," she protested, "And even if she did, you wouldn't notice, she's almost the same colour as the couch. And you should feel flattered because she seems to like you."

He opened his mouth to argue before pausing, his eyes glancing down at the cat once more before lifting to her.

"It does?"

" _She_ does," she sent him an annoyed glance.

"And that's odd?" He questioned, sensing her surprise.

"Exceptionally. She's very quiet and very shy. She's highly suspicious of people and spends most of her time hiding away and avoiding everyone. She was gifted to me on my twenty-eighth birthday and I named her Sally. She's a rescue, her previous owner abused and neglected her, she didn't have a name until I gave her one. She's highly suspicious of men, in particular, and despite her familiarity with my family and Godchildren, I have never before seen her as comfortable with them as she is with you, especially giving this being your first meeting. With me, she is affectionate, with everyone else, not so much. So for her to be so content and peaceful with you, to be willingly sleeping on you, is out of character for her. For some reason, she _trusts_ you."

Tony hummed thoughtfully, his eyes darting down to the sleeping cat as he tipped his head slightly. He brought one hand up and hesitantly ran it through the soft fur on her back, waking Sally as she released a yowling yawn. Tony drew his hand back quickly and scowled at her when she sniggered, Hermione watching in amusement as Sally stretched and dug her claws into Tony's leg, the billionaire wincing in pain. When Sally was finished, she turned in his lap to face Tony before stretching up, settling her paws on his shoulders and collapsing onto her stomach on his chest, nuzzling her head affectionately against his chin.

"Erm..."

Hermione sniggered. "She likes you, be flattered," she reminded.

Bringing his hand up once more, he buried it in Sally's fur, earning a loud purr of approval.

"It seems she likes me more than you," he gloated, "She left your lab to be with me."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be cocky, I said she likes you, I didn't say you were her favourite."

And to prove her point, Hermione reached out, lifted Sally from Tony's chest and before she'd settled her on her lap, Sally was already nuzzling against her neck and chin, her sandpaper-like tongue grazing over the skin of her cheek in a show of affection.

"See? I get kisses, you don't," she said smugly.

Scowling, Tony reached out and snatched Sally from Hermione, holding her up in the air and before his face, dark eyes meeting piercing blue.

"It's like she's staring into my soul," he muttered and Hermione snorted. "Where's my kiss?" He asked jealously before sending a smug smirk Hermione's way when Sally meowed and then bestowed a lick to his cheek. "Why'd you call her Sally?" He probed, setting the cat on the couch cushion beside him, only for her to climb back onto his lap, rubbing herself against his neck and face.

"She looks like a Sally," she shrugged.

"No, she doesn't," argued Tony. "I would've called her Roxy. She looks like a Roxy."

"She's not your cat, she's mine," she pointed out, amused by the sudden one-eighty turn he'd taken in regards to his feelings towards her familiar. "You want to call her Roxy, get your own cat."

"I hate cats."

"I believe you," Hermione snorted, seeing the way he was lapping up the attention of her suddenly affectionate familiar. "Anyway, I've hired a realtor to find me some suitable housing options, but he's come up empty so far."

"What're you looking for?" He asked curiously. "Renting or buying?"

"I don't see the point in renting, depending on how long I live in a property, I might've paid enough rent to buy it twice over, and renting's likely to cost more than my hotel bill. Buying's more permanent and if needs be, I can put it back on the market or rent it out," she shrugged. "And it's a pain in the arse finding someone willing to accept pets."

"Condo? House? Apartment?"

"I'm not fussed," she admitted. "I've done a bit of research into the property market in Manhattan and it took me a while to get over the shock, I thought London was bad..."

He snorted at her, settling Sally more comfortably on his chest, one hand running through her fur, the other propping his head up as he shifted to better face her, giving her his full attention.

"I knew purchasing property here wouldn't be cheap but I wasn't expecting it to be so expensive."

"So you want to buy, it'll be cheaper in the long run," he agreed. "And your requirements?"

"The basics, I suppose; kitchen, bathroom, living room, bedroom. And for reasons that are understandable, I want a place in a not-so-bad neighbourhood."

"And desirables?"

She looked to him questioningly, wondering why he was asking such questions but she answered anyway.

"If possible, space so I might have a library. I've an extensive book collection and it's killing me that they're all stuffed in cardboard boxes and have been for months. A terrace or balcony would be nice if I go down the apartment route, a fireplace, and more than one bedroom would be beneficial but isn't required... My Godchildren have been begging me to let them visit me for years, but I've never had the space," she explained.

"Budget?"

"I don't want to spend too much and again, I'm not a materialistic person, but I know I have to be realistic so, one and a half, two at an absolute push."

"Million?" He checked. "Because that's the kind of price were looking at for property 'round here, especially if you want something decent."

"Million," she confirmed, seeing his curiously arched eyebrow. "I've amassed a decent net worth over the years," she confessed. "Between my inheritance, free-lance projects, investments and refusal to spend money unless I absolutely have to... I'm well off. But I don't make my financial standing known, in fact, most of my family don't even know the extent of my wealth... Anyway, I'm not opposed to a fixer-upper, in fact, I think it might be nice putting my own stamp on something," she shrugged.

"Where are you staying tonight?"

She lifted her hand and pointed to the ground, indicating the floor below. "I'd planned on staying in my lab before I was kicked out anyway. I've made some headway on one of my projects and it needs strict observational intervals every two hours. I'll find somewhere to stay tomorrow."

"What are you working on?"

"I'm still not telling you, not until I've gotten the results I require. Anyway, I better get back to my lab, I've been away for too long and anything could've happened in that time."

She climbed to her feet before slipping her shoes on and then she reached out to lift Sally from Tony's chest, only to have her hands batted away for her trouble.

"She's comfortable, leave her where she is."

Hermione arched an amused eyebrow. "You hate cats," she parroted.

"She's had a hard life, if she's comfortable, I don't want to disturb her," he argued.

Hermione snorted. "You don't think she's spoilt? I've Godchildren who buy her more toys and collars than I can keep up with."

"What'd you do with her when you disappeared for a week?" He asked unexpectedly.

"Oh, someone I know from SHIELD kept an eye on her for me," she answered, thanking God that Natasha was a life-saver for cat-sitting for her.

It was perfect really; Sally and Natasha had an understanding. Sally stayed out of the way and didn't destroy any of Natasha's furniture and she fed and watered Sally and kept out of her way. They were quite similar in personality actually, both the cat and assassin being quiet and suspicious and they used and preferred avoidance.

"And I leave a window open and food out in my hotel rooms," she said before he could question her on the long hours she worked.

She reached to take Sally once more, again having Tony bat her hands away.

"Fine," she sighed. "But now you've got her for the night, and I should warn you, she hogs the blanket and snores. Don't be surprised if you wake and you can't see or breathe because you've got a mass of fur covering your face, she loves a good snuggle session... Be good," she warned.

"She'll be fine," Tony rolled his eyes, patting the purring cat's head and she pushed against his hand affectionately.

"I was talking to you."

~000~000~000~

"Granger!"

Hermione startled awake, her clipboard being knocked to the ground as she almost fell off her stool when she darted upright, barely stopping herself from drawing her wand.

Wide and alert, she did a quick scan of her surroundings, quickly realising she was in her lab and there was no threat of danger. She gave a groan of pain, both her neck and back aching from the odd angle at which she'd fallen asleep at her workbench.

"Really, Tony?" She grumbled, her eyes landing on the billionaire as he stood by the lift, an eyebrow arched amusedly as he took in her morning appearance.

" _Wow!_ That is some hair," he exclaimed.

She scowled and reached up, running her fingers through the thick, tangled strands, trying to tame the large mass of curls but knowing it was useless. She hadn't washed her hair or applied her detangle oil the night before, meaning it would take far too long to attempt to get a brush through it. She couldn't be bothered, she'd just throw it in a bun and wash it later that night.

"Damn, I haven't seen that much hair since the 80s."

"Shut up," she scowled, folding her arms over her chest as he sniggered. "It's not my fault."

"Can you even get a brush through that?"

"Yes."

He arched an eyebrow in challenge.

"Sometimes," she admitted. "It takes a while. Besides, you should've seen me in my teen years, my awful neighbour used to call me an 'ugly duckling'."

Both of Tony's eyebrows lifted, his eyes slowly tracing her figure, barely noting that she still wore her lab coat and clothes from the night before, having fallen asleep before she'd had the chance to make it to bed.

"I don't see it."

She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, I had buck teeth, my ears were too big for my head and my hair..." She unfolded her arms and held her hands out on either side of her head, "Used to come out to here, it was like having a tangled cloud on my head. The weight alone gave me neck ache," she said. He snorted. "Thankfully, puberty was kind to me, once I graduated that is. My appearance made me a target for bullies," she shrugged.

She saw his brow furrow and his lips pull into a frown before he gave his head a quick shake, his expression falling back to neutral.

"Now that you're awake, breakfast's served," he said.

Her eyes were drawn to his hands when he lifted them higher, Hermione noticing for the first time that he held two containers, the plastic covering steamed slightly from the heat of the contents.

"Milo's?" She questioned.

"Of course," he replied, giving her a look of offence. "Where else would I order from?"

"Calm down," she rolled her eyes, "I was only checking, one of these days you might change your mind," she shrugged.

Part of their routine involved eating breakfast from Milo's, a diner a few blocks away, and for dinner, if they didn't order fast food or takeaway, they opted for Emma's, the same diner he'd taken her to for dinner during her first week at Stark Industries. They frequently ordered from both diners so often that they only had to give their names and the staff knew their orders without having to ask, and they also snuck an extra muffin or slice of cheesecake in for Hermione, something Tony often complained about as he cited it was favouritism. To shut him up, she always shared her extra treat with him.

She stood from the stool with a numb arse and she stretched with her hands above her head, her eyes closing in pleasure when her something in her back cracked and helped to ease the ache. During this, she missed Tony's eyes darting to her stomach, latching onto the pale skin that was revealed as her t-shirt rode up.

Groaning happily, she turned and headed for the empty workbench where they might eat without inhaling any fumes or risk interfering with one of her experiments. She drew the stool out from beneath the bench and took a seat, Tony doing the same opposite her.

He set both containers down before following it with a small brown paper bag and a tray holding two large drink containers, one coffee and the other hot water. Hermione always complained that they couldn't get the tea right no matter how many times they tried or how many times she gave strict instructions on how to make it, and so, they simply filled the cup with hot water and supplied the teabag and sachets of milk so she might do it herself.

Accepting the container from Tony as he pushed it towards her, her mouth twitched into a smile when she saw that he'd already removed the lid and squeezed the ketchup from the supplied packets onto her bacon, sausages and eggs, as well as cut her sausages in half for her so they might cool quicker.

Lifting her eyes, she spied Tony sipping from his coffee, his eyes locked on the second cup, a concentrated frown on his face as he absentmindedly prodded at the teabag he'd put in the hot water, stirring it with the plastic spoon. A moment later, he added two sachets of milk and stared down at the liquid, nodding to himself as it turned the correct colour. Happy, he removed the teabag, squeezing the remaining flavour from it as he pressed it against the side of the cup and then dumped the teabag onto the lid.

He barely looked at her as he pushed it towards her and then reached for his own breakfast, Hermione peering down to see it was perfect. Neither too strong nor too weak. Perfect.

"We'll make a Brit out of you yet," Hermione commented.

He snorted. "Nah, it's too cold over the pond. Last time I visited, I nearly lost a toe to frostbite."

"It's not _that_ cold," she rolled her eyes. "You should try attending Hogwarts, it was almost unbearable in the winter..." He perked up. "No," she interrupted before he could question her further, Tony sulking as he speared a sausage with his fork. "So, how'd you sleep?"

"Your cat tried to kill me," he stated seriously.

She sniggered. "I tried to take her from you and I did warn you," she defended.

"Still, I wasn't expecting to wake this morning to darkness and the inability to breathe. I left her on the couch, I woke to her sleeping across my neck and over my face with her claws lodged into my skull."

"She likes to snuggle," Hermione shrugged.

"You mistake affection for attempted murder," he quipped. "And with all that fur, she's like a damn hot water bottle."

"I know, it's great in the winter," Hermione grinned. "Attempted murder aside, how'd you sleep?"

"Great," he sighed in admittance, "And you're right, she likes to snuggle. I managed to pry her off me and when I tried to get up, she just sprawled across me again."

"She's lazy," she nodded, "She loves a sleep in," she popped some eggs into her mouth.

"She's an odd one," Tony remarked and Hermione looked to him questioningly. "Breakfast, I figured she was hungry and I obviously didn't have any cat food, so I gave her some tuna fish in a bowl. You'd think I was trying to kill her with the look she gave me. I've never seen an animal look so offended and disgusted."

Hermione snorted. "Sally _hates_ fish," she told him. "She'll only eat tuna if you mix it with mayonnaise."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" He asked aloud. "It didn't stop her from stealing the eggs from my plate this morning when I went to the bathroom. I came back and the plate was empty."

"She's going through a phase at the minute," Hermione shrugged. "And why were you eating eggs?" She pointedly looked down to their breakfast.

"I was hungry, Happy was taking too long picking up the order," he defended. "It's not like I've eaten two breakfasts, with your cat stealing mine."

"Where's she now? I thought she might've followed you down."

"Last I saw, curled up on the couch asleep."

She gasped. "On your _sixty thousand dollar_ couch. Oh no, the horror!"

"Shut up," he grumbled.

She grinned. "Admit it, she's adorable and you love her."

"I don't," he protested.

"Please," she scoffed, "You've left her alone on your ridiculously expensive couch and you let her suffocate you in your sleep. You love her."

"It's the eyes," he grumbled, "They're so damn blue."

She sniggered. "I know, she's adorable."

The lift doors drew open and they both looked towards it, Tony blinking in surprise and Hermione rolling her eyes when Sally stepped out, walking towards them with her fluffy tail swishing happily.

"Speak of the devil," Hermione said.

"How the fuck does she do that?" He pressed.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders before saying, "Come on then," she patted the surface of the workbench in encouragement, her half-kneazle jumping up and releasing a meow as she butted her head against Hermione's chin in greeting. "Good morning to you, too, lazybones." Hermione greeted, running her hand through Sally's soft, thick fur, her back bowing in pleasure. "I hear you stole Tony's breakfast?"

Sally meowed in her face before giving her cheek a lick and then turning on the spot, moving to sit before Tony, her tail swishing back and forth.

"What?" He asked the cat. She yowled in response. "No, not a chance," he told her, giving his head a shake. "You've already had my eggs, you're not getting this, too."

Hermione hid her laugh by taking a sip of her tea when Sally yowled in protest, Tony sent a glare her way before looking back to her cat.

"No, eat your owner's breakfast."

"I've already eaten my eggs and sausages, she doesn't like bacon," Hermione injected.

He sent her a look of annoyance before looking back to her cat.

"Don't look at me with those eyes," he warned, scowling at her cat. A staring match between the two ensued until Tony rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "Damn baby blues," he muttered, scooping up some of his scrambled eggs and setting them on the container lid, Sally immediately moving to eat them.

"Pushover," Hermione teased. He scowled at her. "You should probably put the lid back on your coffee, too."

"Why?"

"She likes coffee," Hermione replied, setting her fork aside and reaching for the bacon with her fingers, bringing it to her mouth and biting some off.

"She's a cat. Cat's don't like coffee," he argued.

"Well, she does, so if I were you I'd put the lid on your... Too late."

"What the Hell?!" Tony exclaimed, staring down at Sally whose head was lodged into the coffee cup. "Seriously?" He questioned in disbelief, Hermione fighting back her laugh when Sally lifted her head and looked Tony dead in the eye, not looking the least bit bothered. "First my eggs and now my coffee? Can't I have anything?" Sally yowled before her head disappeared into the coffee cup once more. "That's far too hot for her," he said, looking to her with wide eyes.

"Apparently not," she shrugged. "You opted for sugar, didn't you?" She said knowingly, knowing that Tony tended to dart between overly sweet coffee and overly bitter coffee, it just depended on the mood he woke with. "That'll be why she's after your coffee."

"And she's got it! As well as my damn eggs," he argued.

"Bacon, as well," she added lightly.

"What?!"

His eyes darted down, seeing that Sally was no longer lapping at his coffee but rather had a rasher of bacon hanging from her mouth as she ate it.

"Seriously?! You said she doesn't like bacon!" He looked to her accusingly.

"She doesn't usually," she held her hands up in defence. "It must just be you. Here, we're in a lab, let's do an experiment."

She reached down and broke some bacon off before holding it out to Sally in offering, the cat having finished eating the bacon she'd stolen from Tony. Sally merely sniffed it before turning away.

His brow furrowing, Tony mimicked her actions and when he held the bacon out in offering, Sally sniffed it before taking it from him, happily eating it.

"And that concludes our experiments. It's _definitely_ you," she said confidently.

"What's your problem?" Tony asked, lowering his head slightly as he locked gazes with Sally. "Damn, I've lost my mind. I'm talking to a cat," he grumbled, giving his head a shake.

"And she can understand every word you're saying," Hermione told him.

"I doubt that," he challenged.

"She can," she assured him. "Can't you, Sally?"

Sally gave a meow in response before she leapt from the workbench and to the ground, disappearing into the bedroom.

"Charming," Tony scoffed. "She eats my food, drinks my coffee and then leaves without a second glance."

"Be flattered, she likes you," Hermione reminded, reaching for the brown paper bag, slipping her hand inside and then drawing back with a chocolate chip muffin.

After wiping her plastic fork clean with a provided napkin, she removed the muffin from its casing and then cut it in half with the side of her fork, offering one half to Tony. He visibly perked up and accepted it, all but shoving it in his mouth before her cat could make a reappearance and try to take that from him as well.

"So, what are your plans on the housing front?" He asked after finishing his half of the muffin, reaching for his coffee before hesitating and thinking better of it.

She sniggered before offering her tea, something he accepted and reluctantly sipped at. He much preferred coffee but she knew he needed the caffeine.

"I'll have Jarvis make reservations at a hotel I haven't been kicked out of and sneak Sally in later, so don't be surprised if she pops up in work station unexpectedly," she warned.

"You can't keep living out of hotels," he told her.

"I know and trust me, I really don't want to but I have no choice. Until I find somewhere permanent I'm out of options."

"You could just stay here," he suggested.

She tipped her head, watching his blank expression closely and from the slight twitch of his eye and the tug at the corner of his mouth, she knew he was deliberately trying to keep it that way. What was he hiding from her? Why was he purposely trying to keep his expression neutral?

"I don't really want to do that either. I mean, it's great in the sense that I literally roll out of bed and into my lab and vice versa in the evenings, but I don't want to live where I work, even if it is only temporary. Don't worry, I'll figure something out," she said, giving him a small smile.

"In that case, you should probably bring Sally to work with you every day, less of a chance of her being seen that way," he pointed out.

"True," she nodded, "But it'll be a pain in the arse having to sneak her in and out every day."

"Then leave her here, I'll watch her for you. Then you're guaranteed to not be kicked out."

She blinked slowly in surprise at his offer.

"Tony, that's very generous of you, but I can't ask that of you."

"You're not, I'm offering," he corrected.

"Still, I can't leave her here fulltime, and it's not because I don't trust you to look after her and keep her safe, not when she seems to trust you more than I do..."

"But?" He prompted.

"But I can't leave here, and no, I won't tell you why, it's personal. Again, thank you for the offer and I truly appreciate it. Now, I best get back to work. A couple more weeks and if everything goes to plan, I should be able to move to the testing phase."

"Still not going to tell me what it is?" He arched an eyebrow, looking to the cauldron on the workbench behind her.

"Not yet," she confirmed.

Standing from her stool, she gathered their empty containers and the rubbish before setting them in the bin. Moving over to her cauldron, she removed the hair tie from her wrist and pulled her hair atop her head, securing it in place. Once done, she collected her clipboard from the ground and peered over the cauldron, taking note of any changes since her last recorded findings.

She felt Tony's eyes on her before she heard the scrape of his stool against the floor and the ding of the lift as he stepped inside. She snuck a peek in his direction, seeing his focused and determined expression before it was hidden by the closing doors.

~000~000~000

The next morning she was woken bright and early in the same manner as she had been the previous day, Hermione having fallen asleep at her workbench once again.

And once she and Tony had taken seats in her lab to eat breakfast, it was much to her surprise and amusement that she noticed he'd ordered extra bacon and eggs, something he set aside for when Sally made an appearance, finally leaving his comfortable couch on the floor above.

He was such a pushover, but he also had a kind heart.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 13

They were conspiring against her. She was sure of it.

The first time it'd happened, she'd thought nothing of it, just that it was an accident and luck hadn't been on her side. The second time, her suspicions had built but she'd pushed them to the back of her mind. The third time, she was certain. It was too much of a coincidence.

Sally and Tony were conspiring against her. She'd bet her life on it.

In one week alone, _five days_ , she'd been kicked out of _three_ hotels as Sally, her usually quiet and people-avoiding cat, had been 'spotted.' And if she didn't know any better, she'd assume she was doing on purpose. Hermione _did_ know better. She _was_ doing it deliberately.

As Hermione stepped into her lab on a Tuesday afternoon, she crossed the room towards the bedroom so might lock Sally in for the day, but when she opened the door, she blinked in surprise to see there was no bed, shelving unit or bedside cabinet that sat a lamp. It was free of all furniture but it wasn't empty. No, storage and cardboard boxes filled the room. There was a clear pathway that safely led to the bathroom so she might use it if needs be, but it was obvious that she wouldn't be sleeping there after late nights or in cases of emergency.

That hadn't been there last night. She'd pulled an all-nighter before returning to her hotel so she might get a few hours sleep and check on Sally before returning to the Tower. She'd been woken a few hours later and asked to leave as Sally had been seen by another guest who'd tattled on her.

Her brow furrowed and her lips pursed and when Sally broke free of her hold and jumped from her arms, Hermione's eyes followed her movements as she padded across the room and towards the lift. She sighed and rolled her eyes, knowing her intentions and before the lift doors closed, Hermione slipped inside, using her key card, passcode and handprint to gain access to the floor above.

After exiting the lift, Sally made herself comfortable on the couch and Hermione headed for Tony's work station, stepping inside to see him staring at one of the holographic screens intensely, his head tipped slightly in consideration as he held a half-eaten cheeseburger in his hand.

"What are you up to?"

_Tony didn't startle or make a noise at her interruption, rather, he slowly twisted to face her, arching an eyebrow._

_"You'll have to be more specific," he told her, taking a large bite from his cheeseburger._

_"I know you're conspiring against me."_

_"Oh?" He questioned innocently._

_"Yes, I'm not stupid. Sally's deliberately_ _getting me kicked out of my hotels. It's been three in five days alone. I've spent all morning trying to find a replacement, but it_ seems word's spread and when they hear my name, they suddenly have no rooms available. So, now, I'm homeless, annoyed, exhausted and starving, so don't play games with me today. I haven't got the patience. Why are you conspiring against me?"

His innocent expression morphed into a grin. "Who's your favourite billionaire?"

"Bill Gates," she deadpanned.

"Well, that wasn't very nice," he pouted. "I guess I'll tell this news to him instead."

"Tony," she warned, rubbing a hand over her tired eyes. "Get to the point."

He cleared his throat dramatically. "I've found you housing."

"Excuse me?" She questioned in surprise, blinking slowly.

He grinned. "I've found you a condo. Three bedrooms, two baths, terrace balcony, utility room, kitchen and dining area, living room, a fireplace, private parking, great security _and_ an added bonus of an indoor pool and gym," he listed. "Oh, and pets _are_ allowed," he added.

Hermione blinked, his words slowly setting in.

"Who's your favourite billionaire?" He asked smugly.

"Oh God! You are!" Her voice rose in excitement and she couldn't help herself. In her excitement, she closed the little distance between them and pulled Tony into a bone-crushing hug, the billionaire releasing an _oomph_ of surprise.

"Shit! For someone so small, you've got the strength of a grizzly bear," he remarked.

"Oh, sorry," she said sheepishly, releasing him and seeing him take a deep breath. "That's amazing," she said excitedly. "Where is it? How much is it going to cost me?"

"Not far," he assured her. "'Bout a fifteen minute drive from here, unless you hit traffic which you _will,_ so actually, double that. As for the price...I know the developing company; I've bought property from them before, so I did some negotiating to convince them to lower the listing price."

Hermione felt her face fall. It was out of her budget. She knew it.

"How much?" She asked knowingly.

"An estimate's between two and three hundred thousand above budget. But it _is_ worth it, and they did lower the price significantly," he assured her. "And in a few years, if you decide to sell it, with inflation and all that shit, it might be worth more than what you paid."

Hermione's brow furrowed and she nibbled at her lip in thought, mentally working out if she could free up some extra money by shifting about her accounts and assets.

"Okay," she nodded slowly. "I think that's doable, I'd have to speak to my accountant but it shouldn't be too much of an issue. When can I move in?"

"Yeah, about that..." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"What?" Her eyes narrowed.

"It's not built yet."

"What!"

He winced at the squeak in her voice before taking a step back from her when she looked about ready to strangle him.

"Construction's begun but it's not expected to be finished for ten months. That's why the price isn't definite, once construction's complete, you'll have the option to choose your own decor. You said you wanted to put your own stamp on it, right? Now you can. You chose the colour scheme, theme, furniture, even the flooring and kitchen. And your choices are what affect the final price. Despite it not yet being finished, it's popular with the big wigs and celebrities, so there's a high demand and I had to pull a few strings to get you on the list. Because of you, Paul McCartney's lost his spot," he grinned. "How's that for a day's work?"

"That's all well and good, Tony, and I appreciate your help, but you're missing the big glaring problem of my being homeless for the next ten months. I've been blacklisted from all of the hotels in the surrounding area, and I don't want to fork out a tonne of money to rent a property when I'm potentially spending over two million on buying one. I admit I do have the funds that will allow me to do so, but I'd rather not. I'm comfortable because I'm careful."

"But you won't be homeless. I've thought of that, too," he told her, smiling smugly. "You can stay here."

"Aside from the fact I've already told you that I don't wish to live where I work, there's the issue with the fact my 'bedroom' is now missing its furniture and it's been converted into a storage room, for items I'm unaware of."

"Ah, I forgot to tell you, the equipment arrived this morning."

"What equipment?"

"The extra equipment you ordered for your lab."

"I didn't order any extra equipment," she told him flatly.

"No? You sure? Never mind, at least it's there if you need it," he smiled innocently.

"I'm too tired to deal with this today," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and feeling the exhausted sting of her eyes. Merlin, did she need sleep. And caffeine. And food.

"Come on, there's something I want to show you."

He gestured for her to follow him and as he stepped around her and left the room, he threw the cheeseburger wrapper in the bin by the door. Sighing and rolling her eyes to herself, she trailed after him, her mouth twitching in amusement when he paused for a brief moment by the couch so he might give Sally a scratch behind the ear in greeting.

When he continued forward, Hermione realised he was leading her down a small corridor that split into two and he turned left, stopping before a door. Looking over his shoulder and giving her a smirk, he nudged the door open before stepping aside, allowing her to enter first.

Giving him a suspicious look, she reluctantly stepped inside, briefly noting that it held the same white and grey modern theme as the remainder of the Tower. Her eyes slowly took in the floor to ceiling windows that made up the entirety of one wall, showing a view of the city, and the detailed, metal-framed queen-sized bed that sat in the centre of the room and against the wall with a white gloss bedside table and lamp sat atop, all of it perched on a raised platform that required three steps to be climbed. She noted the comfortable-looking armchair in the corner of the room and the large shelving unit that would comfortably sit a large number of books. In the left-hand corner sat a large platform and tower, completed with everything a feline might want or need to be comfortable and entertained. And two doors were on the left, one leading to a bathroom and the other a walk-in wardrobe.

Peculiarly, the room still had that new paint smell and all of the furniture looked to be in great condition, which meant it hadn't been used often or it was all newly bought.

Feeling Tony's presence behind her, she slowly turned to face him, seeing that he'd propped his shoulder against the wall and folded his arms over his chest, his eyes carefully surveying her expression and reaction.

"Welcome home, Roomie."

"What?!" She spluttered.

He arched an eyebrow. "Well, that wasn't the reaction I was expecting," he said in disappointment. "I was looking forward to the ' _Thank you, Tony, you're the best_. _I don't know what I'd do without you, you're my hero_.'"

"I would never say that," she scowled at him. "I'm not a damsel in distress, never have been, and I can take care of myself. I don't need anyone to be my _hero_."

"A little gratitude would be nice."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Tony, I _am_ grateful. But I can't stay here."

"Why not?" He challenged. "You spend more time here than you do anywhere else, both _in_ and _out_ of work hours," he reminded. "And technically you won't be living where you work, 'cause your lab's on the floor below."

"I work in _this_ Tower, where my lab is located," she argued.

"Whatever," he rolled his eyes. "I don't understand why you're being so difficult. I've saved you the commute and the hassle of finding a place that accepts animals. What other options have you got?"

He pushed away from the wall and took his leave, Hermione watching as he disappeared from view. She ran a hand through her hair, her eyes darting about the room once more, growing lost in her thoughts.

Admittedly, she didn't have any other options available and she would struggle to find a quick replacement, especially one that was in her price range and that allowed pets. The location wasn't so much of an issue seeing as she apparated to work, not that he knew that of course.

Whilst she'd grown to know that Tony was kind-hearted no matter how hard he tried to hide it, she couldn't understand his motives behind his current actions. Yes, they were friends but still... Allowing her to _live_ with him for _ten months_? Was he lonely? She wondered.

A man like Tony, he worked insanely long hours, just as she did. He was incredibly smart, a certified genius, which meant he struggled to find people to converse with on topics most wouldn't and couldn't understand, her included. But with his fame and wealth, she knew from experience that it was difficult to trust people. It was difficult to determine who was truly a friend and who was simply using you for their own benefit, for the money, fame and connections. And living a life like that... It was incredibly lonely.

Hermione understood, even before she'd moved she'd felt alone, especially since she and her friends had all grown up and started their own careers and families. Life got in the way and made it hard to stay in contact no matter how hard they tried. And since leaving England, she always felt alone because very few knew of her true identity and her magic, and no one knew the true extent of her background or suffering. And those were things she couldn't share because she didn't trust anyone enough to do so. Even when she'd been surrounded by assistants and Agents, whether they knew of her or not, she felt alone.

But since starting with Stark Industries and developing a friendship with Tony, she admitted that she felt less lonely. That she felt more understood. Here was a man who'd suffered, maybe not as she had, but he'd still felt pain and betrayal. Here was a man that didn't offer his trust freely, here was a man that was cautious with those he revealed himself to, and she was one of them. She wondered if he felt less alone, too.

Tony was a friend, a good friend, a _very_ good friend and even with secrets between them, they understood each other better than most. And she _did_ spend more time at the Tower than anywhere else, whether it be in her lab and eating dinner with Tony and watching a movie before returning to her hotel.

Drawing away from her thoughts, she gave herself a mental shake before following after Tony, finding him on the couch with Sally sprawled across his lap as he distractedly ran his hand through her fur.

She took a seat, sinking into the cushions and tugging her legs beneath her, being sure to keep her shoe-clad feet hanging over the edge. She folded her arms around her stomach and twisted to face him, seeing him lifting his gaze from the ground and to her.

"Why are you doing this?"

"You're my friend. You're in a bit of a jam and I have the solution," he shrugged one shoulder. Hermione thought he actually looked a little disappointed.

Perhaps he was lonely all up in his big Tower.

Her decision made, she said, "Let's talk rent."

Tony's head snapped to her, his eyes widening a fraction. "What?" He questioned, looking as though he believed himself to have misheard her.

"Rent, we need to discuss payment," she clarified.

She didn't imagine the way his eyes lit up and his mouth tugged into a smile, his entire being seeming to brighten considerably.

"I don't expect you to pay rent, Granger."

"Tough luck. I don't expect to allow you to let me stay here rent-free, especially with the monthly wage you give me."

He rolled his eyes. "You're not paying rent. I won't take a dime off you."

"Fine, then I'll buy the groceries," she compromised.

"Jarvis orders everything and has it delivered, payment's already taken care of. If there's something you want specifically, just ask him to add it to the list before Monday, which is when we can expect delivery."

"Oh, you're a pain in the arse," she grumbled, standing to her feet and storming to the lift.

"See ya later, Roomie," he called after her.

She didn't need to know that the only reason she was blacklisted from every hotel in Manhattan was that _he_ had made it so.

She didn't need to know that her bedroom had once been a closet, one he'd had converted solely for her.

And neither did she need to know that the only reason she'd gotten on the buyer's list for the condo was that he'd bought the project from the previous developers, giving them a profit before it was even complete, and allowing him to give Hermione her dream home, even if he had to adjust the planning and blueprints to do so.

~000~000~000~

"Hey, Tony!" Hermione called, being unsurprised when she received no response, the genius billionaire being just as bad as her, if not worse, when it came to being absorbed by his work. "Jarvis? Might you tell Tony that I need to see him?"

"Yes, Dr. Granger," replied the AI.

Happy that Tony would soon make an appearance no matter how busy he was, (whenever she requested his presence, he always showed up and she made sure to show the same courtesy) she distractedly hummed to herself as she drained the boiling water from the pan and then dished out the vegetables amongst the three plates that sat on the kitchen island before her, placing a subtle Warming Charm over it to keep them warm.

Putting the pan aside so she might wash it later, she turned her attention to mashing the potatoes, barely having started when Tony appeared from his work station, looking as though he hadn't slept since the day before, and she knew he hadn't. He'd been working on some exciting new project that had kept all of his attention, and despite how big the 92nd floor was, the sound of him working late into the early morning had carried to her room. She'd pulled him away for breakfast and shoved caffeine and food down his throat and although he hadn't eaten much due to him being too excited to get back to his work, she hadn't argued as he'd at least eaten something.

"What's up, Roomie?"

She rolled her eyes at the new moniker, something he'd been using for almost a week. It was Sunday, bringing it to a total of five days since she'd accepted Tony's offer and became his roommate.

In all honesty, Hermione had expected to believe it to be a bad idea and that she'd have to search for other options. She knew how annoying and difficult Tony could be and she knew that she was no angel to live with, and she thought that being in close quarters with him all the time would create a bad, tense atmosphere between them. And whilst she did previously spend most of her time at the Tower, she did return to her hotels to allow for a reprieve, no matter how long or short it had been.

But in those five days of her living with him, honestly? Nothing had changed. They still ate breakfast together, they still talked and bickered, they still ate dinner and watched TV and they still played card and board games. The only difference now is that when she retired for the night, she settled in the room down the corridor rather than apparating to her hotel. It was nice, not being alone all the time.

And Sally loved her new home. She was given free rein and she divided her time between napping on the couch, her lab and Tony's work station. She was coming out of her shell and Hermione had even seen her venturing further about the Tower, having spotted her in the foyer late the other night when she'd gone down to collect her and Tony's dinner from the delivery driver. The guards had been trying to shoo her back onto the street, believing her to be either a stray or a lost, wandering cat.

She hadn't been able to resist as she leaned against the wall, amusedly watching her little fluff-ball run circles around the three guards. _Literally_. She darted between their legs and avoided they outstretched hands as they shuffled and skidded across the marble floor in an attempt to catch her, one of the guards actually losing his footing whilst the other two collided and knocked each other to the ground. It was like witnessing something from a children's cartoon.

Only when Sally darted over to her and rubbed against her ankles, looking up at her and releasing a pleased meow, did the guards notice her presence and they all climbed to their feet, brushing down their uniform and looking embarrassed.

After explaining that Sally wasn't a stray but _her_ cat that lived in the Tower and she had free rein to venture where she might wish so long as it wasn't dangerous, (something Tony had said to the feline over dinner her first night there) she headed back to the lift with Sally and their dinner in hand.

The moment she stepped onto the 92nd floor, laughing to herself, she'd drawn Tony's attention. She'd asked Jarvis to pull the security footage for the last ten minutes and she and Tony had had a good laugh watching the scene in its entirety, Hermione noting that it had been going on longer than she'd thought when she'd arrived in the foyer. That night, Tony had shared his food with Sally without complaint and the next morning, a black bandana had been fastened around Sally's neck, depicting a large, glowing blue Stark Industries logo. The idea being that anyone in the building that saw her exploring would know she belonged to Stark Industries and would leave her be. Tony was adamant that Sally be the new mascot.

"Here, finish this for me, my arm's hurting."

She turned away from the counter with both the pan and potato masher in hand before setting it before Tony as he came to a stop by the kitchen island. His eyes darted between her and the half-mashed potatoes.

"What?"

"Mash the potatoes, it's not rocket science, something I know you're capable of," she rolled her eyes, turning her back to him and removing the milk from the fridge before collecting the butter, setting them both on the kitchen island, watching as Tony eyed the utensil in his hand as though it were a foreign object that might kill him. "Seriously? Use that to mash the potatoes. I'm tiny, you've more upper body strength than I do."

His brow furrowed as he did as she asked, Hermione sniggering to herself at his confused, lost expression.

"Keep going," she encouraged, "It doesn't have to be perfect; when I add the milk and butter it'll smooth it out and make it creamy."

"What're the orange chunks?"

"Turnip."

"Turnip?"

"You've never had turnip and mash potato?" She questioned in surprise. "It won't disappoint," she promised.

"What're you cooking? _Why_ are you cooking? I thought we agreed on Thai tonight? I didn't even know you _could_ cook."

"I didn't have much of a reason to cook," she shrugged. "When I broke up with Ron, I lived by myself, and then I moved here a few years later. I had to learn to cook 'cause Ron refused, so his mother taught me, not that I didn't enjoy it. It was the reason _why_ , I didn't appreciate. At SHIELD, I got my meals from the cafeteria, when here we order in and at the hotel, I ordered room service. As for why, I've had enough of takeaway and fast food, to be honest, I'm starting to feel sluggish and just... Unhealthy. I've missed having a home-cooked meal, and I can't remember the last time I had a Sunday dinner. Now that there's two of us, I thought I might make the effort, introduce you to new experiences, and us Brits, we're known for and are very protective of our Sunday dinners."

"So this is going to be a recurring thing?" He arched an eyebrow, lifting his gaze from the mashed potatoes and to her.

"Yep," she popped the 'p', "At least, I'm going to try and aim for one Sunday dinner every week, and possibly three cooked meals a week, including breakfast. There's only so much bacon and eggs I can take."

"Alright," he agreed, "I'm not opposed to cooked dinners, but if you turn out to be a shit cook, don't be surprised if I revert back to cheeseburgers and Chinese."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," she snorted. "That should do it," she told him, taking the pan from him, Tony watching as she carefully added the precise amount of milk and butter she wished before once more mashing it all together. "How d'you like your mash, smooth or with some chunks?"

"Edible," he shrugged.

"Smooth it is," she rolled her eyes, being unsurprised when he took the pan from her and continued with the mashing of the potatoes, milk and butter, seeing that she appeared to be struggling with both her lack of upper body strength and the height of the kitchen island making it harder for her to find her grounding.

"Why're there three plates?"

"Happy," she answered, her tone all but saying she thought that was obvious.

"You spoil him," he remarked.

"That man deserves a raise for putting up with you all the time," she defended.

"Rude," he huffed, narrowing his eyes slightly when she smiled innocently.

It was true, she'd come to understand that not only was Happy his personal bodyguard and chauffeur, but he was more or less his personal assistant, too. The poor man was always run ragged as he completed Tony's long list of errands, whether it be collecting breakfast from their favourite diner, organising his mail or retrieving his dry cleaning. She'd actually seen him changing a light bulb and washing the dishes at one point, too.

"You're no walk in the park either."

"I don't know what you mean, I'm a ray of sunshine," she arrogantly flipped her hair over her shoulder and Tony snorted at her. "That looks about done," she noted, taking the pan from him before dividing the mashed potato onto the three plates.

"You didn't say what you were making," he reminded.

"Well, I did consider chicken or lamb, but decided against it, as I did with bangers and mash. So, I settled on mince and dumplings."

"Never heard of it," he told her, folding his arms on the surface of the kitchen island and leaning forward.

"Didn't think you would have," she nodded. "It's more of a Northern dish, more popular with the North and North East parts of England, like Yorkshire and Newcastle way," she explained. "I once heard someone describe a dumpling as a crispy bread cake," she shrugged. "I don't see it myself, but to each their own. If they're cooked right, they should be soft and fluffy in the middle and slightly crunch on the top. As for the mince, it's ground beef that's cooked in gravy. My Gran used to make it every time we visited when I was a child. She prided herself on her dumplings, she always entered the neighbourhood competition and she won ten years consecutively before she died. So not only is this a secret family recipe, but, it's a _champion_ recipe. And it's all made from scratch, no packet mix here."

"Then I'll be judging harshly," he warned.

"I'm not worried," she assured him. "I know you're going to love this. But don't judge a book by its cover."

"Okay...?"

"Aesthetically, it looks like sick on a plate."

He grimaced. "Okay, that decides it, Jarvis, order my usual from..."

"No," Hermione interrupted with an unhappy expression. "I've been stood in this kitchen for the last two hours and this morning I went out to buy everything fresh. And not only that, but I had to buy a new pyrex dish and a potato masher because you didn't have one. Suck it up, it might not look appealing, but the taste more than makes up for it."

Pushing away from the kitchen island, she turned and reached for the oven mitts before drawing the steaming dish from the oven, giving the door a little nudge with her foot to close it behind her. She set the dish before Tony, the billionaire eyeing the dumplings, mince and gravy with some interest.

"Well, it doesn't smell bad," he mused.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

With a ladle, she divided the mince and dumplings between the plates before dousing the food in gravy. Placing everything off to the side on the counter by the sink and setting Happy's plate in the oven to keep it warm for when he returned from completing Tony's errands, she retrieved knives and forks from the correct drawer, as well as Tony's beverage of choice from the fridge, before they both took seats on the stools beside one another.

Hermione waited for Tony to take his first taste before she set to eating her own, sniggering when he winced at the hot temperature of the food. He chewed slowly and thoughtfully, more than likely just trying to wind her up.

"Is the verdict in?"

Tony turned to look at her, his expression serious, a slight frown tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Where the Hell have you been all my life?"

"Britain," she chirped, happily making a start on her dinner and she didn't want to toot her own horn, but she'd outdone herself this time.

"It's weird," he commented, breaking a section of dumpling off and holding it up to his line of sight as he examined the fluffy texture and crunchy surface. "But I like it," he decided, putting it into his mouth. "So, what am I looking forward to with these home-cooked meals of yours?"

"That depends, do you want generic meals or British classics?"

"What's on offer?"

"Fish and chips is easy enough to make but it's never the same as getting it from a chip shop," she began. "Bangers and mash, toad in the hole, beef wellington, pie, peas and chips, casseroles and stews, meat pies... I could go on forever." He blinked slowly. "You've been to London before, haven't you? I'm sure I remember an article about you meeting with the Prime Minister. What did you eat?"

"Cheeseburgers," he shrugged.

She rolled her eyes. "That doesn't surprise me."

She turned towards the lift when the doors opened and an exhausted-looking Happy stepped out with garment bags gripped in his hand as he carried them over his shoulder.

"'Bout time, you've been gone hours," Tony said in lieu of a greeting.

Hermione barely looked at him as she smacked him on the arm with the back of her hand. "I'm sure he worked as quickly as he could," she defended. "Happy, dinner's in the oven."

"Dinner?" The bodyguard perked up.

"A British classic, mince and dumplings."

He all but darted to the couch, draped the garments bags over the back of it and then moved to the kitchen, barely remembering to use the oven mitt to grab the plate from the oven.

"Slow down, you'll choke," warned Hermione, seeing the way Happy inhaled his food, almost as if he wasn't even chewing it.

"Sorry, I'm starving," he mumbled around the food in his mouth. "I haven't eaten since six o'clock this morning."

Hermione sent Tony a telling look and the billionaire dramatically sighed.

"Happy, I'm giving you a raise."

The bodyguard nearly choked on his food.

"Are you trying to kill him?" Hermione demanded, sending him an annoyed glance.

"What? _You're_ the one who said he deserved a pay rise," he argued.

"I did, but the obvious action to take would be to wait to tell him when he doesn't have food in his mouth. He could've died."

"Don't be so dramatic," he rolled his eyes. "And even if he did, you're a doctor."

"That's not the point. The point is you..."

"This is really good, by the way," Happy interrupted.

Hermione snapped her mouth shut mid-sentence and took a calming breath before she turned to the bodyguard. "Thank you, and I made cookies this morning. I hid them from Tony so he couldn't get his grubby mitts on them."

"What!" Cried the billionaire, giving her a look of betrayal whilst Happy grinned widely. "I want cookies! Why does he get cookies and I don't?!"

"Stop whining, you big baby, I made you brownies."

"Brownies?" He echoed hopefully.

"Yes, and I hid them so you wouldn't find them."

"Where are they?" He demanded.

"I'm not telling you."

"They're mine. You said you made them for _me_."

"Yes, and I did. But you're not having them now."

"But I _want_ them now," he argued.

"You can have them after dinner. So be a good boy and eat it all up," she said as if she were talking to a child.

Happy quietly ate his food, unconcerned about their bickering as he witnessed it almost every day and had grown used to it. And admittedly, it was fun to watch.

"Well, now I don't want to."

"That's okay, Sally's doing it for you," she said lightly.

"What?!"

He lowered his gaze, seeing Sally perched on the kitchen island, her tongue lapping up the gravy from his plate. Thankfully, he'd already eaten most of his dinner and there was a little leftover if he wished to have more later.

"Seriously, where the Hell did you sneak up from? I'm getting you a damn bell," he said, his gaze locking with the feline's when she lifted her head. "Don't look at the eyes, don't look at the eyes," he chanted in a whisper to himself. Hermione and Happy shared a snigger. "Damn it!" Tony crumbled. "Go for it," he sighed, giving the smug cat his permission. "But are you Hell getting my brownies."

~000~000~000~

Later that night as they watched TV, Hermione observed Tony breaking off small sections of a brownie and feeding it to the cat that lay on his chest, happily purring.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 8

"Hey, Roomie!" Tony's voice carried. "Where are you?"

"Bedroom!" She called back, rolling her eyes to herself.

She stood in her walk-in wardrobe, shifting on her feet nervously and biting at her lip. She stood before the large mirror, scrutinizing her appearance and wondering if she had enough time to change into something else.

Her hair was drawn into an elegant knot at the nape of her neck, showcasing her neck and shoulders whilst one or two curls framed her face. Her makeup was kept minimal, just a dash of mascara and red-stained lips. Her cocktail dress was plain and simple; black fabric that sat off her shoulders and tight sleeves that fell down to her wrists, whilst the hemline fell an inch above the knee, the fabric conforming to her body shape and highlighting her pale complexion. Silver strappy heels sat on her feet, matching the clutch purse and bejewelled belt that fasted around her middle.

It was simple but classy. Perfect for the occasion. But maybe she should try something else before she made up her mind?

"Ah, there you are, what d'you want for dinner...?"

Tony trailed off as he stepped into the doorway and she took a breath before turning to face him, steeling herself for his reaction. He stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, his arms down by his sides, his mouth parted slightly and his eyes were a fraction wider than usual as they slowly took in her attire from head to toe.

"Well? What do you think?" She asked nervously, gesturing to herself with her clutch purse grasped in her hand.

"I... Er..."

Her stomach plummeted. She looked awful.

"I knew I should've gone with the blue," she grumbled. "I look ridiculous, don't I?"

"Wait! What?" Tony blinked slowly, his eyes lifting to catch hers, the hazy fog seeming to clear from his mind as he gave his head a subtle shake. "No, you look beautiful."

"Really?" She checked, ducking her head shyly.

"Stunning," he confirmed confidently, folding his arms over his chest and propping his shoulder against the door frame. "I've never seen you in anything but jeans and a lab coat, you clean up nice," he remarked. "What's the occasion?"

"I have a date," she confessed.

"A date?" He tried for casual as he arched an eyebrow, but she saw the slight narrowing of the eyes and pursing of the lips.

"Yes, and I have to admit, I'm a little nervous." She shuffled her feet and her teeth once more caught the corner of her lip. "It's been a while since I last went on a date."

"How long?"

"About a year."

"That's one hell of a dry spell," he commented.

"I'm always busy with work," she shrugged. "It was an accident, actually. I took a walk this morning and literally bumped into someone. He knocked my tea all over me and ruined my shirt. He offered to buy me another one and before I knew it, he'd asked me to dinner tonight."

"Fab," he offered lightly, looking lost in thought as his eyes fell to the floor. "Where's he taking you?"

"I'm not sure, he said it was a surprise."

He lifted his gaze, looking concerned. "So, he's picking you up?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "I said I'd meet him at Emma's and we'd go from there. I'm due to meet him in twenty minutes."

"What's his name?" He asked casually.

"I'm not telling you."

"Why?" His brow furrowed and his lip jutted out in a pout before he thought better of it and drew it back.

She sniggered at the sight. "Because I don't want you to be all overprotective and scare him away before I even get to the dinner table."

"Overprotective?" He challenged.

"Yes, overprotective. You know, doing an enhanced background search until you know his name, job, home address, hobbies, his school teachers, what he has for breakfast? That kind of thing."

"I'm glad that recognise my hacking skills... And what's wrong with doing a little background check. It won't hurt anyone. You never know, he might have an arrest warrant out on him 'cause he's a drug dealer or an abusive asshole."

"He is not, he was perfectly charming and polite," she defended.

"They're the ones you need to look out for," he pointed out.

"I'm not arguing with you over this. I forbid you from doing a background check on my date, but now, I best go before I'm late."

She reached for her white pea coat and slipped it on before fastening it, protecting her from the autumn, evening chill.

"Fine," he sighed in reluctant agreement. "But don't come crying to me if he murders you." He pushed away from the door frame before continuing with, "D'you want me to walk you to Emma's? With you out for the evening, I thought about ordering my usual from there, so I'll be going in that direction anyway."

"You just want to be nosy and see who my date is," she said knowingly.

"I promise I'll stay out of the way," he held his hands up.

She eyed him thoughtfully before nodding in agreement and once he retrieved a jacket and she gave Sally a goodbye scratch behind the ears, they took their leave in the lift, greeting the security guards before stepping out of the Tower and onto the street.

"Should I expect you home?" He arched an eyebrow.

"I don't know what impression I gave you but I don't sleep around and never on the first date."

"Just asking," he held his hands up in surrender.

"I shouldn't be out too late, and if the date goes sideways, then I'll make an excuse and duck out early."

"Why aren't you meeting at the Tower?" He asked curiously.

"I didn't want him to know where I lived or worked," she shrugged, slipping her hands into her coat pockets. "Firstly, he doesn't know that I work for you and I wouldn't be surprised if he fangirls over you and asks if I can set up a meeting or get him your autograph should he discover the news. And secondly, if this date goes bad, I don't want him potentially showing up at my place of work. That's why I set Emma's up as the meeting place. It's neutral territory but it's familiar for me, something I'm hoping will help calm my nerves."

"You're nervous? Why?"

"I'm not the easiest person to date, I know I can be difficult and intimidating and I haven't had the best luck in the past, and considering I'm thirty-one, I don't have much experience. You're forgetting, I was with my first boyfriend for five years before we broke up because he was a cheating arsehole, and after that, my relationships were far and in-between."

"Bullshit, you'll be fine," he declared with a roll of his eyes. "You're incredibly intelligent, you have a job that earns you forty thousand a month, you bake _the_ best brownies in the city and you're looking fine as hell in that frock."

A laugh fell from her and she turned to look at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement and gratitude.

"Well, thank you, Tony. However, I know from experience that some men take issue with women earning more than they do, and he might find that intimidating, or he might try to take advantage of me. Let's be honest, what do I have to offer? I'm a workaholic that lives with her boss in the same building in which she works. If I'm being honest, I don't see this date going any further than dinner."

"You haven't even _had_ dinner yet," he rolled his eyes. "Hold off on the judgement and at least try to enjoy yourself," he advised. "You never know, he might surprise you."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, for all you know, he's going to lure you back to his dungeon, cut the skin from your body and turn it into a coat. That'll definitely be a surprise when he's jabbing a sedative into your neck."

"Honestly," she huffed, smacking him on the arm with the back of her hand as he sniggered.

"In all seriousness, there's some weirdoes in this city and you've only met this guy once. Make sure he takes you someone public, well crowded might be better so if needs be, you can escape and get lost amongst the crowd. If you get a strange vibe or you feel uncomfortable, give me a call and I'll fly over in my suit and pick you up."

"You're being overprotective," she sang.

"No, I'm being realistic," he corrected. "I just want to make sure you're safe, I'm only looking out for you. I can't have my highest-paid employee murdered, it'll be bad for business."

"Charming," she scoffed.

She gave a sudden squeal when her heel got caught in a crack on the pavement, sending her into a stumble that would've had her face planting the ground had Tony not used his reflexes to steady her. Even with the Balancing Charm she'd fitted on the death traps she still struggled to stay upright, what did that say about her?

"Don't laugh," she chided him. "I'm not used to wearing these things, I much prefer my trainers. And technically, it's wasn't my fault my heel got caught in a crack on the floor. It's a wonder it didn't happen before."

To ensure her continued safety she slotted her arm through Tony's to help keep her upright, something the billionaire didn't seem to mind as he silently slipped his hands into his jacket pockets.

A few minutes later, they arrived at Emma's and Hermione took a step back from Tony.

"Well, off you go, he'll be here any minute."

"I think I'll wait until he gets here if you don't mind, just to ensure your safety, of course," he said, giving her an innocent smile.

She didn't buy it.

"I do mind, actually," she said, narrowing her eyes slightly. "You just want the opportunity to interrogate him," she said knowingly.

"As I said, ensure your safety," he repeated.

She rolled her eyes. "No, get in there and order your dinner. You can still see me through the window... No, get in there or I swear, I'll turn you blue again," she threatened.

He narrowed his eyes, appraising her carefully before releasing a huff of annoyance when he realised she wasn't bluffing.

"Fine," he acquiesced. "But I'll be watching."

"That's what I like to hear," she chirped.

He snorted. "Remember, if you're uncomfortable, call me and I'll pick you up."

He gave her a final glance before turning and stepping into the diner, the waitress taking one look at him as he took a seat by the window before giving his order to the kitchen, without having to speak with him.

Tony kept his eyes on Hermione and when he saw a taxi pull up outside the diner, his eyes narrowed and he slipped the earpiece into place.

 _Damn_ , he thought. No personal car meant he couldn't use the license plate to discover the registered owner.

"Jarvis?"

"Yes, Sir," replied the AI.

"Stand by," he instructed.

He sunk back into the booth and lowered his head slightly, trying to hide his face in case Hermione's date should look over, spot him and recognise him, when the taxi door opened and a man stepped out. Given the distance and the dark, it made it difficult to see him clearly and make out his features, but he did notice that he was taller than Hermione, even when she wore heels.

His eyes narrowed when he approached Hermione and they shared a kiss to the cheek in greeting before he led her towards the taxi, holding the door open and allowing her to climb in before he followed her. When the taxi pulled away, Tony said,

"Jarvis, follow them."

"Yes, Sir."

"And check any cameras in the area, grab a screenshot of his face and run it through facial recognition. I want to know everything, from his shoe size to his last dental check-up."

"Yes, Sir. But if I might? I don't believe Dr. Granger will approve."

"I made a promise that _I_ wouldn't do a background check. I never said that I wouldn't have someone else do it _for_ me," he defended. "It's for her safety. She only met the guy this morning and she knows nothing about him.

"And you are certain you are not jealous?"

Tony scoffed, barely sparing the waitress a second glance when she placed his food and milkshake on the table before him. Rather, his attention was on the screen of the device in his hand, his eyes locked on the facial recognition programme Jarvis had running.

"Jealous? Of course, I'm not jealous, I'm just worried she might be in danger. Anyway, what do you know about jealousy, you don't have emotions?

"Jealousy: the state or feeling of being jealous. Jealous; feeling or showing an envious resentment of someone or their achievements, possessions, or perceived advantages."

"That's the oxford dictionary definition," Tony rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Sir, it is," replied the AI. "However, I believe you are jealous."

"Why am I jealous?" He challenged.

"You are jealous that it is not you in which she is having dinner with this evening. You are jealous that she is giving her affection and attention to another male."

"Shut up, Jarvis," Tony scowled. "I'm _not_ jealous. Why would I be jealous of..."

He paused, perking up slightly when a ding sounded, alerting him that the facial recognition software had found a match. His eyes swept over the smiling face of Hermione's date, his hair a dirty blonde and cut short, his eyebrows bushy, his eyes a dark blue and his chin and jaw slightly squared.

"Chris Ford, 28, paralegal for Grant and Mitchell law firm... Failed the BAR three times... Hmm, so he's either a dummy or doesn't hold well under pressure... Attended New York University ... It's not Yale, though, is it?... Graduated tenth in his class... Oh, Daddy paid the tuition, huh?..."

"Sir, your father paid your college fees," interrupted Jarvis.

Tony frowned. "When did you get so sassy? I never programmed you that way, I swear you've been conversing with Granger too much and I don't like it." He pursed his lips before giving his head a shake and clearing his throat, continuing with, "Plays squash twice a week... Boring... Shares a townhouse with his older sister... Oh, Daddy paid for that, too. Has a 2010 Audi A5 registered to his name... Ah, it was totalled two weeks ago in an accident... Younger sister was driving, a bit of bad luck, that is... Daddy's a hedge fund manager, mother died of lung cancer in 2007... Has three unpaid parking tickets... No warrants or arrests... Oh, now that is interesting," Tony muttered. "A sealed juvenile record... Not for long," he grinned to himself, his food forgotten as his fingers hastily typed away at his phone screen.

"Sir, I really must advise against this," Jarvis intervened.

"Don't be a party pooper," Tony replied, snagging a fry from his plate and putting it into his mouth before returning to his phone once more.

"Sir, if Dr. Granger discovers that you..."

"She won't discover anything unless you or I tell her, and I have no intentions of telling her anything. So if she should become privy to my hacking into his sealed court records or his background, I'll know it was you that snitched and as retribution, I'll cut your access to the world wide web."

"That seems entirely too harsh a punishment, Sir," the AI responded.

"Perhaps," Tony agreed. "Ha! I'm in! Now let's see what naughty things you did as a kiddie... Egging cars, Tee-pee'ing houses, rearranging garden ornaments into depicting sexual acts, stealing hanging baskets... Seriously, _that'_ s why he has a record? For being a damn kid?" Tony grumbled, rolling his eyes. "This guy's so boring she'll be looking for any excuse to ditch out."

"And you are certain you are not jealous, Sir?"

"I'm not jealous," Tony scowled. "I'm far more interesting than a damn paralegal."

"But it is him Dr. Granger is having dinner with this evening," reminded Jarvis.

"Jarvis, you really know how to ruin a guy's night. And I have dinner with her _every_ evening," he argued.

~000~000~000~

"How was your date?"

Hermione startled and had to grip the railing to prevent her from falling over and she glared at Tony in annoyance. She hadn't even stepped out of the lift yet, the doors had only just opened and Tony was stood before her, his expression expectant.

"Rubbish," she admitted.

"Really?"

She tipped her head slightly. Was that relief?

"Really," she confirmed, stepping out of the lift, removing her coat and crossing over to the couch before collapsing onto it, greeting Sally when she climbed onto her lap and licked her cheek. Tony took a seat beside her, Hermione noting the paused movie that was on the TV.

"So, will you tell me his name now?" He asked.

Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously, seeing the knowing sparkle in his eyes and the slight tug at the corner of his mouth.

"Chris Ford, and don't you dare do a background check. It's no longer required; I won't be seeing him again."

"Weird vibes?"

"No," she shook her head. "It's just... God, I feel awful for saying this but... He was so _boring_ ," she sighed. "Throughout the majority of dinner, he only spoke about himself and whenever I tried to get a word in, he'd just cut me off. I did let slip that I worked for Stark Industries, not that I worked in such close quarters with you, mind... Anyway, when I told him I was a medical doctor with four masteries under my belt, he laughed in my face, as if I wasn't smart enough to hold the qualifications I do. I don't know how I didn't fall asleep at the table, or how I didn't smack him in the face."

Tony snorted. "That's something I wouldn't mind seeing."

"Trust me, I've a decent right hook. I broke a bully's nose in my third year of school. Honestly, it felt _great_."

Tony laughed. "I bet it did. So you're not seeing this guy again?"

"No, definitely not. He tried to ask me out on a second date but I declined, something he took offence to. But at least he wasn't a serial killer that wished to harvest my organs and turn me into a rug."

"You got lucky on that front," Tony agreed.

"Anyway, my first date in a year was a disaster and I don't wish to speak about it any further. I'm exhausted and my feet are killing so I'm off to bed. Night, Tony."

She shifted Sally from her lap, gathered her coat and headed for her bedroom, Tony's eyes following her movements until she could no longer be seen but her heels continued to echo in the silence.

 _See, Jarvis_? He thought smugly. _No reason to be jealous_.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 9

"Jarvis, please inform Tony that dinner's ready," said Hermione, as she finished plating up their meal for the evening.

"Right away, Dr. Granger," agreed the AI, and when Hermione finished putting the dishes in the sink to be washed later, Tony made an appearance from his work station.

"What's on the menu tonight?" He asked, taking a seat at the kitchen island.

"Well, it's been a long day, so I settled for Chicken alfredo," she answered, placing the dish and fork before him and then taking her own seat beside him. "Is Happy joining us tonight? There's plenty left."

"I gave him the afternoon off," Tony replied.

Hermione paused with her fork mid-air before she reached out with her other hand, placing the back of it against his forehead.

"What're you doing?" He leaned back and away from her, eyeing her as though she were crazy.

"Well, clearly you're not well. The Tony I know would never give Happy the afternoon off," she defended.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. There was nothing that needed doing and I didn't plan on leaving the Tower, I had no use for him and there was no point in him standing around and making the place look untidy."

"Are you certain you're feeling okay?" She checked.

"Now that you mention it, I did feel a little funny after eating that fish you cooked last night."

Hermione scowled at him and turned back to her dinner, ignoring his smirk.

"Now that you're here, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"That sounds ominous," Tony commented, twisting on his stool to better face her.

"It's nothing bad," she assured him. "I just wanted to let you know I'm leaving the city for a few days."

Tony tipped his head to the side. "It's barely been three weeks of you being my roommate and you're already running for the hills."

"Don't be ridiculous," she rolled her eyes. "It's my Godson's birthday soon and I promised Harry I'd be there, and I haven't been back to London in almost six months, he's been nagging the hell out of me and I just want to get it over with."

"You don't sound excited to be going home," he observed.

She shrugged, her fork shifting and prodding the food on her plate rather than eating it. "I love my family and I adore my Godchildren, but to be honest, I hate going back because of Ron. He's an arsehole. Like a _giant_ arsehole, you've never met an arsehole like him. I've met politicians that are nicer and that lie less. I'm not looking forward to my welcoming reception because I know he'll ruin everything. I just have to put it aside and brush off all his comments and try to not let him ruin this visit for me."

"I'm struggling to process the thought of you _willingly_ taking time away from work," he admitted, giving his head a shake. "When are you going? How long will you be gone?"

"I'm hoping to leave tomorrow so I arrive on Wednesday, and I'll return no later than Monday, that way I won't miss too much work and I'm there long enough to appease Harry."

"You got the plane tickets yet?"

"No," she shook her head. "I thought I'd best talk to you first, in case you needed me here. I'm going to book a return flight tonight. I'll spend tomorrow securing my lab and stabilising my experiments so nothing explodes in my absence and I'll throw a few things into a suitcase and off I go. With London being five hours ahead of us, I'll have to get a late flight so I arrive in the morning, that way I can spend the day with the kids without wasting any time or being too tired."

"Hmm, hold off on that," he said, drawing his super fancy advanced tech phone from his pocket, his eyes locking on the screen. "I thought that was this week," he nodded to himself before setting the phone aside. "What a coincidence, it seems Pepper's got me booked to head out to London."

"What?" She blurted out in surprise.

"Yeah, I've been putting it off for months but she threatened me with violence if I cancelled this week."

"You're expected in London the same week I decide to visit my family?" She questioned in disbelief.

"Yep, as I said, what a coincidence," he smiled innocently.

"What do you need to be in London for?" Her brow furrowed.

She knew she was being nosy and she had no right to question him, his motives or his business requirements, objectives and goals, but she was struggling to get past the sheer coincidence in the matter.

"I've been wanting to expand Stark Industries for a few years," he shrugged. "The priority of the trip is property hunting so I might establish a London office, and I do have a few meetings lined up with potential developers. And this just works out perfect. You can save your time and money and hop on my private jet with me."

Hermione felt her heart stop.

She had absolutely no intention of flying anywhere. With her being so well connected to the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, there was always a port-key on standby for her use in cases of emergencies. And it would only take a few minutes, unlike the seven hour flight she was trying to avoid.

"No, that's alright, thanks. I'll just stick with my plan of a commercial flight, I don't want to disrupt your plans for the week."

"I wasn't due to leave until Friday," he admitted, "But I don't mind going a couple days early, it'll give me the opportunity to get away from here for a few days," he shrugged. "I don't see what the problem is. You don't have to buy plane tickets, we'll be taking off from a private airfield, they'll be zero security checks, you'll be far more comfortable, there'll be no one on the jet but us, _and_ it's a faster flight time. It's nothing but benefits."

"Tony..."

"No," he interrupted her rebuttal. "I'm not taking no for an answer, it's the most logical solution. And this way, you can sneak Sally into the country and you won't have to leave her with a cat-sitter. So, I'll contact the pilots and have them move up the flight plan and ready the jet and we'll leave here at seven-thirty tomorrow night."

Hermione dropped her head into her hands and sighed.

She wasn't getting out of this.

~000~000~000~

"What're you waiting for?"

Hermione didn't answer. She couldn't. She was terrified.

She _hated_ flying, whether it be by muggle or magical means. It was one of the reasons she and her parents only went on holidays that had a flight time of less than a few hours. Any longer and she'd have a panic attack. She much preferred port-keying, and although the experience was unpleasant, it was over within a few minutes.

"What's up?" Tony sidled up beside her, his hands slipping into his trouser pockets and he looked down at her from beneath his outrageously expensive sunglasses. Why was he wearing them? It was forecast for rain _and_ it was nearing nine o'clock. It was dark outside.

Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "Nothing," she replied, bending to pick up her suitcase, only it was gone from beside her and when she darted her eyes about in search, she spotted Happy heading away from the car with her suitcase in hand.

Rolling her eyes, she rounded the car only to halt to a stop, her eyes catching the large jet that sat on the tarmac before her.

"You want a bigger jet?" She snarked.

"Maybe next year," Tony shrugged casually.

Tony gave her a nudge forward and as she reluctantly approached the jet, she threw him a glare over her shoulder before facing forward, gripping the handrail tightly as she climbed the stairs into the jet. She felt so out of place seeing the TV screens, the leather interior of the chairs and couch and the cashmere carpets. Should she take off her shoes? Oh, and of course he had a bar.

Feeling his presence behind her, she deliberately moved to take a seat, silently admitting they were comfortable but despite that, she didn't feel any less anxious about the flight. She'd already dosed herself with a Calming Draught before leaving the Tower and despite the time that had passed during the drive to the airfield, it hadn't helped to ease her in the slightest.

She sat ramrod straight, her hands clasped together tightly and resting on her lap as she tried to distract herself by mentally recounting the brewing recipe for a Pain Potion. Happy caught her attention from the corner of her eye when he boarded the jet for the final time with a cat carrier in hand.

He'd barely sealed the door shut when Tony released her fluffy feline no matter how many times Hermione had told him previously to leave her in the cat carrier for the duration of the flight. He'd argued that it was animal abuse to keep her confined in such small quarters for so many hours and he'd threatened to report her to the Animal Welfare groups. She'd argued that it was for Sally's safety, to prevent her from wandering somewhere she shouldn't and to minimise injury should something happen with the jet and they crash-landed. He hadn't listened to a word she'd said.

Despite her annoyance with him, she did appreciate her familiar strolling towards her with her fluffy tail swishing back and forth and she rubbed against her legs in a show of affection and support. Before Hermione had the opportunity to reach down and settle Sally on her lap, she'd already darted away from her, wishing to explore her new surroundings and she was unsurprised when she darted beneath the couch.

"You alright?" Tony asked, lazily draping himself in the seat directly opposite her and removing his sunglasses before he set them on the little table beside him.

"Fine," she lied.

He arched an eyebrow. "Yeah? Then why do you look like you're about to pass out?"

She opened her mouth to respond but snapped it shut when Happy stepped out of the cockpit and gave them both a nod before he took the seat on the other side of the jet. Seeing him buckling his seatbelt, Hermione was quick to do the same, her hands nervously shaking as she did so.

She gripped the armrests tightly and screwed her eyes shut, blocking out the sound of the pilot's voice over the speaker and when the jet lurched forward, her breath hitched and her heart pounded in her chest.

"Granger!"

She reluctantly lifted her head and slowly opened her eyes, meeting Tony's concerned gaze.

"What's the fuck's wrong with you?" He demanded.

"I hate flying," she admitted quietly.

"What?" His brow furrowed.

"It's my biggest fear."

"Oh, well I'd appreciate it if you removed your claws from the leather interior, it cost a fortune. You've nothing to worry about. I employ only the best, and statistically, flying is the safest way to travel and this jet is one of the best and safest models currently on the market."

"That doesn't make me feel better, Tony."

"What scares you the most? The takeoff? The landing? The flying? The height?"

"All of it, and most positively the falling from the sky and crashing to our deaths!"

"Last year, there were only thirty-two commercial aviation crashes, and only two of those occurred in the US," he offered.

"Fabulous," she grumbled sarcastically. "Whatever you're trying to do, it isn't working."

"Really?" He challenged. "Well, a plane's most likely to crash within the first three minutes of take-off and it's been," he paused, looking down at the watch on his wrist, "Nine minutes, we're clear and we've levelled out. And even if something were to happen, which is unlikely, not only are there safety measures in place, not only are there parachutes on board, but, I have my suit with me. Something happens, we just fly out. Simple."

Ignoring her annoyed glance, he unbuckled his seatbelt and pushed up and out of his seat, crossing over to the bar only to reappear moments later, holding a measure of scotch out to her in offering.

"This'll help," he promised.

She reluctantly released her grip from the armrest and took it from him with shaking fingers.

He retook his seat and watched her as she downed the amber liquid in one swallow, gripping the empty tumbler between her fingers tightly. She closed her eyes and breathed through her nose, feeling her shoulders lose some tension when she exhaled through the mouth and leaned further back into the seat. As she controlled her breathing and tipped her head back, she felt herself calming. Had he slipped something into her drink without her seeing? Or was it just the power of a good scotch?

"Better?"

"Yes," she admitted, keeping her eyes closed lest she opens them again and her anxiety continues to climb. "Did you slip something _extra_ in?"

"No. I told you it'd help and you believed me, which led to you calming."

"Placebo," she muttered.

"Exactly," he nodded, not that she saw. "I never took you for a nervous flyer," he remarked thoughtfully. "If this is what you're like on a private jet, I'd hate to witness your little freak out on a commercial flight."

"It's not pleasant," she admitted. "I had a near miss when I was a kid."

"Meaning?"

She took a breath and reluctantly opened her eyes, blinking back the spots that blurred her vision until it cleared.

"My parents and I, I was about five-years-old when they took me on a plane for the first time; we were going skiing in Switzerland. During the flight, we hit some turbulence, enough that the oxygen masks were released and I can remember thinking 'I'm going to die.' Can you imagine a child believing that? When things settled down and my parents were able to calm me, there were issues with the engines and we were forced to make an emergency landing in bad weather, and it wasn't exactly gentle. My dad broke his nose and my mum had a concussion."

Tony blinked slowly, processing her confession before saying,

"I swear, if anything goes wrong, I'm kicking you out the door head first. I don't want your bad juju breaking my jet."

"I appreciate the concern," she muttered sarcastically, sending a glare towards Happy when he snorted but he quickly put his attention on the magazine in his hand.

"You should get some rest. If you want to spend the day with your family without jetlag or physically crashing, you best grab a few hours sleep. We should be landing in a little under six hours."

"I can't sleep on planes, I've tried but I can never relax or lower my guard enough to nod off, even for five minutes."

"I can change that, follow me."

He stood from his seat, pried the tumbler from her hand and deposited it on the bar along with his own. Turning to look over his shoulder, he arched a challenging eyebrow before walking further down the jet. Scowling, she unfastened her seatbelt and followed him on shaky legs, reaching the back of the jet and stepping through the open doorway.

Of course, he had a bedroom.

The large bed dominated the room, a TV screen was built into the wall opposite and an armchair sat in the corner with a small table nearby.

"There's a bathroom behind that door, fitted with a shower should you wish to jump through and freshen up," he gestured towards the left of the TV. "If you're hungry, there's snacks in the drawers below the TV or if you want a meal, there's kitchen facilities in the room we passed by the bar. I'll leave the door open so Sally can come and go as she pleases, and so we can hear you if you need us. I'll wake you thirty minutes before arrival. Get some sleep, don't argue with me."

He strode from the room and shut the door over but didn't close it as promised, before she'd even been able to reply.

Brushing a hand through her hair and sighing, she did admit to herself that she was exhausted. She'd been awake since five o'clock in the morning and it was now approaching ten o'clock at night. Taking into account the flight time and the time difference, if she wanted to arrive in London between eight and nine o'clock on Wednesday morning, they had to leave New York at nine o'clock at night.

She kicked off her shoes and climbed onto the large bed, staring up at the ceiling awkwardly. After several minutes, she huffed in annoyance and shifted to get more comfortable, and with the coolness of the pillow against her cheek and the calming effect the scotch had had on her, surprisingly, she felt herself dosing off.

~000~000~000~

"Happy, I can feel you staring," said Tony, his eyes distractedly on the laptop that sat on the table before him, one hand typing away at the keyboard and the other propping his head up. Sally had come out from beneath the couch and after a quick scratch behind the ear from him, she'd curled up into a contently sleeping ball on the seat Hermione had once occupied. "What is it?"

"Sir," he began before pausing, trying to correctly word what he wished to say. "As your chauffer and bodyguard, I have access to your itinerary six months in advance, and Ms. Potts ensures that I receive it before you do so I might prepare."

"And?" Tony prompted distractedly, his eyes still focused on the screen before him.

"A trip to London was _not_ scheduled, which is why I was surprised when I received the call to contact the pilots so they might clear their schedules and ready the jet in time for leaving."

"There's nothing wrong with being spontaneous," Tony replied.

"And it's just a coincidence that Dr. Granger just happens to be visiting her family the same week you decide an impromptu trip to London is in order?"

"Yes, complete coincidence," Tony confirmed.

"So you didn't do this _for_ her?" Happy needled.

"No, of course not," he denied. "She's been cooking British cuisine for weeks, I thought it was time to try it from the source, and I can do with a break from the Tower for a few days, especially with Pepper's couple dozen passive-aggressive phone calls these last few months. She's driving me insane."

When Happy didn't respond, Tony finally drew his eyes from his laptop and looked to him, spying his knowing look.

"What?" He questioned.

"Nothing," he responded innocently.

Tony narrowed his eyes slightly before rising from his seat, moving to the bar and pouring himself another measure of scotch. With the tumbler in hand, he continued further down the jet until he reached the bedroom, pushing the door open a little wider.

Propping his shoulder against the door frame and lifting the tumbler to his mouth as he sipped at the amber liquid, he watched her.

Laying in the centre of the bed and clad in her t-shirt, jeans and socks, she slept peacefully, her hair fanned out on the pillow, her mouth slightly parted, her chest rising and falling with every breath she took and a pillow held against her chest as she snuggled it like a child would a teddy bear.

He'd always known that she was almost a decade younger than him, but he'd never noticed how youthful she looked. In fact, she looked younger than her age. If he didn't know any better, he'd assume she was still in her early-twenties, a decade younger than her actual age. He'd always thought her to be pretty, but he'd never noticed the kindness of her expression, the softness of her features, the shine of her wild hair.

"Mr. Stark?"

Tony startled and pushed away from the door frame, twisting to look behind him to see Happy with a questioning expression on his face.

Clearing his throat, he replied with, "Just checking she hasn't passed out or thrown up on my Egyptian cotton sheets."

Happy didn't look convinced but he didn't comment.

"Captain Hillard's been forced to alter the flight plan. There's a storm expected to hit in our direct path of flight. In order to avoid it, we'll be flying around it."

"What's the delay to the expected arrival time?" Tony questioned.

"Thirty minutes, Sir."

"Not too bad," Tony mused.

Hearing a soft sigh, he peered over his shoulder, spying Hermione shifting in her sleep before she settled, hugging the pillow to her tighter. Her eyes moved beneath her eyelids and the corner of her mouth tugged into a smile.

A streak of white and grey darted between his legs before leaping onto the bed, the mass of fur laying atop the pillow and burrowing under Hermione's arm and against her chest. When she affectionately rubbed her head against Hermione's chin before bestowing a lick to her cheek, she released a sleepy noise of disapproval at being disturbed.

Honestly, as he stared at the woman and fluff-ball that was her cat as they both snuggled whilst sleeping in _his_ bed on _his_ private jet, he'd never seen such an adorable sight. And oddly, for the first time in a long time...

He felt at peace.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 30

"Want a bite?"

Hermione grimaced and leaned away from the half-eaten cheeseburger Tony held before her face in offering.

"I don't understand how you can eat that so early in the morning, the last thing I want before ten o'clock is a cheeseburger. What's wrong with a good old fashioned McMuffin or a bowl of porridge?"

"Well, that's the last time I offer you something," Tony griped, taking a large, unnecessarily aggressive bite from his cheeseburger.

She rolled her eyes and pressed her cheek against the cool, tinted window of the privately rented armoured SUV that had been waiting for them at the private landing strip. She brought her hot tea to her mouth, happily sipping from it. It was the first British-made cup of tea she'd had in months, well, aside from herself, of course, and she was going to enjoy it.

Surprisingly, she'd slept through the majority of the flight and she'd only woken because Tony had thrown a cushion at her as they were preparing to land. She'd almost hexed him at the sudden and unexpected movement.

When she retook her seat and fastened the belt securely, she'd glared at Tony throughout the entirety of the jet landing, both for his rude method of waking her and his annoying commentary as he poked fun at her fear of flying. When they'd safely landed, he gave her a smug smile and demanded a thank you. It wasn't until that moment that she'd realised what he'd done. She'd been so annoyed with him (and had been seriously contemplating outing herself by hexing him) that she'd been distracted from her fear. Well, that and she was still a little groggy with sleep.

After Sally was caught and put in her carrier, Hermione had gladly been the first one off the jet, having to restrain herself from being one of those people that got down onto their knees and kissed the ground in relief.

Happy ushered her and Tony into the car, collected their luggage and off they set away from Heathrow Airport, successfully avoiding any potential fans or press that may have gotten word of the jet being spotted landing, and it was hard to miss with Tony's name being adorned on the jet. Tony being _desperate_ for a cheeseburger and coffee, had Happy drive to the nearest McDonald's, even though that meant they'd gone out of their way, added thirty minutes to their already one hour journey into the London City Centre _and_ they had to double back on themselves.

Still feeling queasy, she hadn't complained and gladly took the tea Happy had ordered for her, as well as the fruit bag and pot of porridge.

"How'd you even convince them to serve cheeseburgers? They only serve the breakfast menu before half-ten."

"Billionaire," he shrugged, balling the empty wrapper up and putting in the paper bag before removing a second cheeseburger and making a start on it.

Hermione was just grateful they'd managed to escape the drive-thru without them being caught on camera, only now, she was certain word would spread across social media that Tony was in the country, which meant she was expecting the press to catch them at some point.

"It's good for you."

"You're talking to a doctor," she deadpanned. "Cheeseburgers are _not_ good for you, especially the amount you eat and certainly not for breakfast. I dread to think what your cholesterol level would be."

"It's fine."

"I seriously doubt that," she argued.

"Cheeseburgers are brain food."

"Porridge is brain food," she corrected. "Cheeseburgers are heart attacks."

"Don't be so dramatic," Tony rolled his eyes.

"I'm not," she protested. "And should you have a heart attack, I won't be treating you."

"That bedside manner of yours needs a little work, Doc."

"I've a _fantastic_ bedside manner," she scowled.

Tony's mouth twitched into a smirk and he arched an eyebrow. "Really? Tell me more, _Dr._ Granger," he all but purred, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"You don't deserve to know," she pursed her lips and turned her eyes away from him and to the busy motorway, watching the cars and coaches they passed during their travel, ignoring his sniggers.

"I never asked, where are you staying?"

"With my friend," she answered. "I sold my flat when I was sent to work with SHIELD, I didn't see the point in keeping it knowing it would hardly be used and I would be too busy to visit often enough to warrant keeping it."

"If you give me the address, I'll add it to the GPS and drop you off," Happy offered from the driver's seat.

"Don't worry about it," she told him. "I've already arranged transportation, it should be waiting when we get into the city," she lied. "But thank you for the offer, Happy."

Tony eyed her curiously but didn't comment further. "Well, if you need me for anything, you've got my number. If you can't get through, I'm staying in the Royal Penthouse at the Corinthia."

"Of course you are," she replied, completely unsurprised at the news he would be staying at one of the most expensive hotels in London, never mind the most expensive suite, too. Tony only wanted the best no matter the cost. Even if that cost was twenty-five thousand a night.

"I'll have you added to my VIP list, so you shouldn't have any issues."

"And you have my number in cases of emergency, but I must warn you that where I'm staying, reception is terrible and I'm unlikely to receive any calls or messages unless I'm in the city centre. I always take the children for a visit whenever I'm back, so I'll get them at some point. And please, don't do anything stupid."

"You heard the doctor, Happy. Don't do anything stupid."

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose.

What was she unleashing on her beloved city?

~000~000~000~

Cat carrier in hand and luggage shrunken down in her pocket, Hermione stared up at the dark brickwork of Grimmauld Place. Whilst the outside remained the same, she knew the inside had changed dramatically over the years, Harry all but tearing everything down and starting from scratch, creating a warm and welcoming townhouse that would house his growing family.

Taking a breath and praying to Merlin that Ron wasn't inside, she climbed the steps and opened the door, the wards recognising her magical signature and allowing her unobstructed access.

She'd barely closed the door behind her when she was assaulted, almost losing her footing as she stumbled back and barely managed to catch herself on the nearby coat stand. Laughing, she set the cat carrier on the ground and folded her arms around the three children, two with a mop of dark hair that reminded her so much of Harry's, and the other fiery-red bed hair that had yet to be brushed or styled.

"I missed you all very much."

"We missed you, too," said James, the soon-to-be nine-year-old peering up at her with eyes that were almost identical to his father's.

"Goodness, I can't believe how tall you've grown," she remarked, blinking in surprise when she realised his head almost came up to her shoulder.

"Look, Aunt 'Mione," Albus drew her attention, the six-year-old grinning up at her and showing gaps in his teeth. "I lost another tooth," his dark eyes sparkled excitedly, something he'd gotten from his mother. "The tooth fairy came last night, she gave me a galleon."

"Wow," Hermione nodded, impressed. "That's very generous, your tooth fairy must be rich. Mine only gave me sickles."

"Aunt 'Mione, I draw you a picture," said Lily, raising her hand and showing the parchment she had gripped in her fist.

Taking it from the four-year-old, Hermione glanced down at the crinkled parchment, seeing a child's colourful drawing, something she assumed was meant to be a picture of her, Sally, Lily and her brothers playing in the garden.

"I love it," Hermione exclaimed. "It's the best picture I've ever seen and you know what? This is getting framed and going on my wall in my lab."

The green-eyed redhead giggled and beamed proudly.

"Come here," Hermione reached down and scooped her Goddaughter off her feet, setting her on her hip and pressing a dramatic kiss to her cheek, Lily laughing and trying to push Hermione away from her.

"Okay, dad's turn."

Lifting her eyes from the laughing children surrounding her, Hermione's smile softened when she spotted Harry stood at the end of the hallway, casually leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest, watching her reunion with his children.

"Hey, Harry."

"That's all I get?" He arched an eyebrow. "What are we? Cousins that hate each other?"

Her mouth twitching, Hermione set Lily on the ground, placed her drawing on the side table and approached Harry, the wizard pushing away from the wall and meeting her halfway, pulling her into a hug as soon as she was close enough to do so.

"You've been gone far too long," he muttered.

"I know, my only excuse is that I've been really busy."

"Kingsley told me what happened with your contract, care to explain?"

"I will, later," she promised.

"Oi, stop hogging her. It's my turn. Move it or lose it, Potter!"

Hermione sniggered and drew back from Harry, seeing Ginny Potter stood in the doorway of the kitchen, glaring at her husband for taking too long.

"Sorry, Love," Harry wisely apologised.

Appeased, Ginny turned her eyes to Hermione, examining her closely before an excited squeal slipped past her lips and she flew at Hermione, her vibrant hair choking her and she squeezed Hermione in so tight a hug, she worried her spine had been dislodged.

"Gin, can't breathe," Hermione grumbled.

"Good, serves you right for being gone so long."

"So this is punishment?"

"Yes, you're too clever to hex," Ginny shrugged, finally relenting on her hug and drawing back from her. "There's some breakfast leftover, you want some?"

"That depends, who cooked it?"

The children giggled and Harry unsuccessfully tried to stifle his laughter as Ginny scowled at her. Whilst Ginny emulated her mother in many ways – appearance, temper, overprotectiveness, she did _not_ have the same talent for cooking. That responsibility was left to Harry, and on days when Harry was out of town for work requirements, food was supplied from her mother and even Hermione when she'd still lived in London.

"I did," Harry promised.

"Yeah, Mum burned the eggs and bacon, even Nina wouldn't eat it," James offered with a laugh.

"Let's not make your mother mad," Harry intervened. "Come on, you haven't finished breakfast yet, it's getting cold. You can talk to your Aunt when you're finished."

"There's plenty of time," Hermione assured them. "Albus, why don't you let Sally out? She's been in her carrier for a while and I bet she's hungry."

"She can have my toast!" Lily exclaimed. "It's got jam on it."

"Then you best eat it all up before Sally steals it from your plate, quick, before she gets there before you." Hermione clapped her hands and ushered the laughing child into the kitchen, being followed by Sally, Albus and James. "So, what's the plan?" She asked knowingly as she took a seat at the kitchen table. Harry wasn't dressed in his Auror robes so she knew he didn't intend to go to the office that day.

"Given how long it's been since your last visit, I've taken a day off from work."

"And so have I," Ginny added. "And we've cancelled the nanny for the next few days. So, we thought we'd spend the day here and catch up, and tomorrow..."

"I've got the little devils all to myself," Hermione interrupted, sharing a high-five with James, Albus gave her a toothless grin and Lily smiled, milk spilling from her mouth and dribbling down her chin.

Harry chuckled and handed her a napkin. "Exactly, any idea what you might do?" He asked.

"Yes, I know exactly what we're going to do."

"But it's a secret," James said gravely.

"No mums and dads are allowed to know," agreed Albus.

"Well, it was worth a shot," Harry shrugged one shoulder, unsurprised by his sons' words.

He was never certain on what Hermione did with his children when she visited, only that they'd be out of the house early and they'd return all but asleep on their feet late in the evening, tired out from the excitement and activities she'd planned. One thing he did know, it was always in the Muggle World, Hermione wanting to avoid the press and keep his children safe whilst enjoying her time with them uninterrupted.

"If you're finished, go get changed and Lily, you need to brush your hair," said Ginny.

"I don't want to," the four-year-old scowled, folding her arms sulkily.

"She's right, little dove," Hermione nodded. "If you don't, Sally might mistake your hair for a feather duster and attack you."

Clearly not liking that idea, the little girl climbed from her chair and took her leave from the kitchen, being followed by her brothers.

"Alright, out with it. What's been going on? How are you being treated? And do I need to arrest someone?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, you don't. I admit, I was furious that the decision was made without my input or knowledge, and I was wary of my new employer, but he's not so bad. He's a giant pain in the arse, super annoying and infuriatingly clever, but we get along well enough. He's like a combination of you and George."

"Dangerous," Ginny sniggered.

"Yep," Hermione nodded. "He's all grand, chaotic ideas and never before seen or thought of inventions, but despite that, there's something oddly calming about him," she shrugged. "He's an idiot but a clever idiot. He only eats because I remind him to; he's always so absorbed in his work he pays no mind to anything happening around him."

"Like you," Ginny pointed out. "And who reminds you to eat?"

"He does, most of the time. He's always preaching about self-care and that I should work fewer hours and take better care of myself... If he followed his own advice and wasn't such a hypocrite, I might listen to him. He's taken to banning me from my lab on the weekends."

"I can't imagine most bosses behaving that way," Ginny injected innocently. "Merlin knows my boss is an arsehole, always shouting at people, looking down his nose at the rest of us and demanding we work later hours."

"We've grown to be good friends," Hermione confessed. "Our relationship isn't quite employee-boss, but more. Put it this way, we had a three week long prank war and I wasn't fired."

"Who won?"

"Me, of course," she replied, looking offended. Ginny sniggered.

"More than employee-boss, huh?" Harry questioned.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not sleeping with my boss, Harry, try and be more subtle next time, yeah? Honestly, I haven't had a relationship for a few of years."

"You're not getting any younger," Ginny pointed out.

"You've never sounded more like your mother," Hermione quipped. Ginny gasped in outrage. "I'm busy with my work, trying to improve modern medicine for the muggles without breaking the Statute of Secrecy. That takes up all of my time and right now, it's my only priority. I've been on a few dates but they never panned out and I grew bored of trying," she shrugged. "I'm a witch, I've plenty of time to find someone should I wish to."

"Hermione, if this is because of..."

"I'm done talking about this and it has nothing to do with _him_ , Ginny. Back off," she warned coolly.

The atmosphere in the kitchen plummeted as Hermione's usually kind features morphed into something hard and cold.

"Hermione..."

"No, it's none of your business, either of yours," Hermione snapped her eyes to Harry. "You have a family, be grateful." She stood from the table and folded her arms over her chest defensively. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to unpack my things and check on the children."

~000~000~000~

"Dad! Look at what Aunt 'Mione got me!" James exclaimed excitedly, bounding over to his father as he stepped out of the floo and into the living room of the Burrow, having just finished his shift at the Ministry.

It was Friday evening and James' ninth birthday.

As planned, Hermione had spent the day at Grimmauld with the Potters and the following day, she'd taken the children into Muggle London, spending their time playing in the park, feeding the ducks and exploring more of the city; visiting Madame Tussauds for the first time, and despite the children having little idea as to who most of the waxworks were, that hadn't stopped them posing for photos and having fun. When they'd arrived home in the evening covered in mud and grass stains, Lily had been asleep with James and Albus barely remaining awake.

When Friday morning arrived, Hermione was woken by an over-excited James, the little wizard crying from the top of his lungs that it was his birthday whilst also jumping on her bed, jostling her about. He'd dragged her down to the kitchen where his mother and father were waiting with his presents, but halfway through breakfast, Harry was called into the Ministry for an emergency. He always made a point to put in a holiday for his children's birthdays and James had been disappointed that he wouldn't be spending the day with him.

It had taken both Hermione and Ginny to cheer him up, promising that once they'd finished breakfast, they could do whatever he wished. He'd chosen to visit Diagon Alley and when they returned after lunch, they'd gained an extra member of the family. Wednesday, James' new familiar snowy owl. Hermione only hoped she got along with Nina, Harry's eagle owl.

As they spent the remainder of the afternoon playing in the garden, when evening approached, they headed over to the Burrow when they received word Molly was ready for them. With the number of children that now filled the family outnumbering the adults, formal dinners had been replaced by buffets and children's parties, at least when it came to the birthdays for the younger generation. This meant the adults drank alcohol and nibbled at the food whilst the children spent their time running to and from the food table and outside as they played games and the older children flew their brooms.

They were the first to arrive, being followed by Bill, Fleur and their three children ten minutes later. When Percy, his wife Audrey and their two young daughters arrived, Molly deemed the buffet open, the majority of the family having arrived and knowing the rest would be by soon.

"What's this?" Harry asked his beaming son, briefly going crossed-eyed as James waved something in front of his face.

"Look! Isn't it awesome?!"

Taking the paper from him, Harry's eyes skimmed over the page, it being a receipt that confirmed both payment and a reservation being held for three weeks time.

"Bloody hell, Hermione," Harry shook his head in surprise, lifting his gaze when he felt her presence as she approached and noting that James had disappeared outside once more.

"What?" She questioned. "I thought he'd love it."

" _I_ love it," he replied and she snorted at him. "Every kid's dream, I'm sure."

She shrugged. "Well, he's only nine once and you know I love to spoil my Godchildren. I had it reserved for three weeks time, so everyone has time to clear their calendars should they need to. I've booked the entire place out, less risk of exposure when it'll only be you lot there and the muggle staff."

"Hermione," he sighed, "I know that won't have been cheap. I had a look at the price list when the place first opened and even I wasn't willing to pay the price for the party package."

"I can afford it, you know I can," she muttered quietly.

Very few people knew of her wealth, only Ginny, Harry and surprisingly, George. He'd made one too many comments over the years about her potentially being his Sugar Momma, no matter of the fact he was happily married.

"That's not the point. _I_ can afford it. You're careful with your money, where's this sudden change come from? It's not like you to splash the cash."

"For my Godchildren it is," she corrected.

"This guy, what's he paying you? That's the only change in your life."

"Forty thousand dollars," she admitted.

"A year? Christ, he must have money to burn."

"No, Harry," she shook her head, darting a look around her to see no one was paying any attention to them, all being otherwise distracted with their own conversations or children. "A month."

He choked. Physically choked and she reached up to slap him on the back before summoning a butterbeer from the table and handing it to him.

"Fucking hell!" He whisper-hissed, being mindful of the children darting in and out of the living room. " _Forty thousand a month_?"

"Yes, I've tried arguing against it but he refuses to listen to reason. He says I'm worth every penny he pays me despite having no idea what it is I'm actually working on in my lab. So, yes, I can afford to splash out this one time for my Godson. When I say I've booked the place out, I mean the _entire_ place. The soft play area, the arcade, the go-kart track, the bowling alley, swimming pool _and_ the petting zoo. Invite anyone you wish, his friends from his Little League Quidditch team or from his flying classes, or Lily's from her art class or even Albus' from his karate class. The more the merrier. It's all paid for so you might as well use it. You've got it from opening at eight in the morning, until closing at ten at night. Fourteen hours of fun, and it's for a Saturday."

"Hermione, really..."

"No, it's paid for in full and I can't cancel the reservation, they need a month's notice."

"Honestly, witch," he brushed his hand through his hair.

She smiled and shrugged lazily. "It'll be the best day ever and you'll always have the memories. These are things neither of us had the opportunity to do as children, and I know it's difficult for you to take them into the Muggle World with your work schedule, this is something they may never get to do again, and luckily, they have the chance to experience it all in one place."

"You're something else," he shook his head. "It's hardly fair to the other kids."

"Oh, I've got Albus' and Lily's presents already sorted. Besides, I got this not just for James but for everyone, as a way of making up for missing so many birthdays."

"Of course, you have," he rolled his eyes and she smacked him on the arm in warning. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Hey, Sugar Momma!"

Harry sniggered as Hermione released a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. Lifting her head and turning to look over her shoulder, she spotted Fred, now three-years-old, pulling his mother's hand behind him as he led the way to the buffet. He was definitely a Weasley. He'd forgone greeting his cousins and headed straight for the food.

"It's been too long. You out working hard and raking in the dough?" George continued, a grin on his face as he approached, brushing the soot from hideous magenta robes. "This wizard could do with a new cauldron."

She rolled her eyes, ignoring Harry's chuckles.

"You're married, George," Hermione pointed out, "With an adorable toddler and baby number two on the way. Don't you think this is getting old?"

"No one's too old for a Sugar Momma," he replied. "Hey, Angie," he called, looking towards the buffet table where his pregnant wife was devouring the cheese and crackers like they were going out of fashion.

"What?" She replied, looking at him over her shoulder.

"You mind if I get me a Sugar Momma in Hermione?" He questioned, his facial expression deadly serious.

She barely batted an eyelash. "If it pays the bills? I say go for it," she shrugged. "I'm due to go on maternity leave in a few months, we could do with help paying the mortgage. In fact, Hermione, d'you wanna be _my_ Sugar Momma?" Angie asked. "I mean, it's not as if I can get you pregnant, or vice versa, both being witches and all, not to mention, I'm already up the duff."

"Oh honestly," Hermione threw her hands up in exasperation. "You two are perfect for each other, you bloody weirdoes."

As Harry laughed loudly, he spluttered and gasped after choosing the wrong moment to swig from his butterbeer.

"I hope you choke," she said meanly before she turned and walked away.

"Sugar Momma!" George cried out in distress.

Hermione released a shriek of surprise when arms folded around her stomach, tugging her back into a hard chest.

"Don't leave me," George pouted, his head lowering until his chin sat on her shoulder and his cheek pressed against hers. "I'm nothing without your money."

"Merlin's Sake," she grumbled in annoyance, folding her arms over her chest, knowing from experience that she wasn't going anywhere until he released her. "I thought I'd escape all this."

"Never," he vowed. "So, how's my favourite millionaire doing? It's been a few weeks since your last letter."

Admittedly, she and Harry didn't talk often, not as often as they used to do before she'd moved to America. With the distance, it wasn't often she visited, they only used the phone in extreme circumstances (potential death or life-threatening injuries) and he'd never been one to enjoy writing letters. As they grew up and their lives and careers pulled them in different directions, they weren't as close as they once were but that didn't mean they loved each other any less than they used to. When she did visit, it was almost as if nothing had changed, like they were still kids at school, but when she returned home, the reality of the change in their dynamics was always a shock to her system.

But George, they'd grown closer after the war; Hermione often checking in on him, being her usual self in forcing him to eat and clearing out the empty fire whiskey bottles that littered his apartment. When she returned to Hogwarts, she made it a point to owl him at least once a week no matter of the fact he didn't respond, she hadn't even been certain he was reading them. But then one day in December, she'd received a reply. It'd only been a few words but it was progress. And from that day, his words turned into sentences, which turned into paragraphs which led to multiple pages. And from that point, they corresponded through owl a couple of times a week, the topics ranging from George's guilt and his grief, his lack of drive and motivation, him wanting to return to the shop to make Fred proud, recipe changes and alterations, even things along the lines of the best places to eat in Diagon Alley or the easiest dishes to prepare himself.

When she'd graduated and before she'd started her training as a Healer, she'd helped George in the shop with product development and finding a way to improve the recipes so production time could be halved.

And George wouldn't admit it to anyone, but Hermione had been the one to convince him to ask Angelina on a date. She'd been the one he'd gone to when he was considering proposing and she'd tagged along in his search for an engagement ring. He turned up at her flat the night before his wedding, freaking out about his impending nuptials and breaking down in a flood of tears that Fred, his best man, wasn't with him. When he'd discovered Angelina was pregnant he'd had a meltdown in her kitchen and when she'd told him the news that she was moving to America, he hadn't wanted her to leave but he'd ultimately been happy for her. When Angelina had told him she was pregnant with their second child, she was the first person he told.

Their letters, with the distance and not wishing to put any owl through the stress of such a long journey, George had learned how to use the muggle postal system. George sent her letters to a PO box in her name, and she sent his letters to her parent's house in London, where George might collect them. Anything she didn't or couldn't tell Harry, she told George.

And there were things Harry didn't know.

Big things.

George, unlike Harry, was more understanding of her circumstances and feelings. Harry could be very judgemental when he wished to be, he struggled to understand her emotions and feelings and he was more likely to take Ron's side in an argument no matter who was at fault. George was the opposite.

"I'm fine," she promised. "Better than I've been in a long time."

"And he's treating you right?"

Hermione snorted. "He's not my boyfriend, George. He's my boss and friend."

"Who you live with," he pointed out.

"That's only until my new place is built."

Seeing Fred hobbling over to her, George released her from his hold and Hermione reached down and scooped him off his feet, settling the three-year-old on her hip as he released a laugh and folded his arms around her neck.

"And when it is, you can come and visit. I'll have plenty of space. From what Tony said, the building will have its own indoor gym and swimming pool."

"I like swimming," said Fred.

"I know you do, did you like your birthday present?"

He nodded like a bobblehead.

"He didn't take them off for two weeks, it drove Angie insane," George laughed.

"You didn't come see me," the toddler pouted.

"I'm sorry, Sweetie. I was going to come and visit for the day but I had to work," she apologised.

"Fury has great timing," George remarked sarcastically. "You should've told him where to go after the way he treated you."

"He needed help," she shrugged before looking to the toddler. "I promise, I'll make it up to you. When you come to visit me at my new house, I'll take you to see the dinosaurs."

"Did you get my picture?"

"Yes, and I love it, thank you. It's on the wall in my bedroom so I can see it every day. It's the best dragon I've ever seen."

He grinned at her. "I'm hungry."

Hermione snorted. "You know what? Me too, do me a favour and steal me a chocolate biscuit from the table before your mummy eats them all."

Giggling, he nodded in agreement and when she set him on his feet, he toddled off.

"There's something I want to ask you," said George.

"And that is?" She prompted, arching an eyebrow.

"I should've asked you this a long time ago, but it didn't feel right at the time. I've been speaking with Angie and well..."

"Well?"

He shifted on his feet nervously and Hermione eyed the uncharacteristic gesture oddly.

"We want you to be the baby's Godmother, Fred's too."

She blinked in surprise; she certainly hadn't been expecting him to say that.

"It was always a given that Fred and I would be the Godfather to each other's kids, and you've always been the only candidate for Godmother, but it didn't feel right asking you when Freddie's not here. But now Fred's getting older and there's another on the way, Angie and I need to get our affairs sorted should anything happen to us. And you, I trust you with my life, but more importantly, I trust you with my kid's lives. You've done a lot for me over the years, more than most, and I promise this is the last thing I'll ask of you, but I know should anything happen, you'll keep my kids safe, you'll give them the best life possible and you'll love them. I know it's a big ask and I have no right in asking this, especially since you've already got three Godchildren but..."

"George," she interrupted, "It's not a big ask and you have every right to ask me. Of course, I'll do it."

His relief and joy were evident as he pulled her into a hug.

"Thank you," he muttered. "But I have to admit, I already had the paperwork filed this morning, hoping you'd say yes. Expect an owl with the forms when you get back to New York."

She laughed at him. "I'll tell you what, before I head back, I'll make a detour to the Ministry and do it all in person, I have to see Kingsley anyway."

"You're the best." Pulling back from her, he looked over at Angelina who was now perched on the couch with a platter of sandwiches in hand. "Angie, our kids have got a Sugar Momma!"

"Wonderful, I knew she wouldn't refuse!"

Hermione sighed in annoyance and pushed her hair back from her face.

Grinning, he looked to her once more. "There's something else."

"What now? And should I be on the lookout?"

"Nah, I haven't had a chance to booby trap anything today, been too busy," he shrugged. "Expect fireworks later, though. Anyway... It's a girl."

"Excuse me?" She spluttered.

He beamed, his turquoise eyes glittering. "It's a girl. It's why we were late, had an appointment at St. Mungo's, you see? I wanted you to know before we tell the others later."

"That's amazing," she smiled. "I know you wanted a girl but were worried about the Weasley curse of only having boys."

"Mum was determined to get her girl, no matter how many redheads she had to pop out," he agreed. "Angie doesn't have the patience to wait that long."

Hermione laughed, briefly having her attention drawn when Fred appeared by her side, holding a chocolate biscuit out in offering.

"Goodness! You, little man, are my hero!" She cried, sweeping him off his feet and onto her hip before taking the proffered biscuit and slipping it into her mouth, the toddler giggling at her antics.

"When can I come see you?"

"Not for a while yet, I'm afraid. My house is being built from the beginning and it takes a long time. But, it should be done when you're four."

"I come then?"

"Yes, and you'll have a little brother or sister to come with you. Maybe even mummy and daddy might come."

"Angie hasn't got the patience for a city that big with all the foot traffic, she'd smack someone if they got in her way," George pointed out and Hermione laughed. "But me? Hell yeah I'm coming, can't keep me away."

The floo roaring to life drew their attention and Hermione's face fell immediately upon the sight of Hugo and Rose being escorted by their father, one, Ronald Weasley. Hermione wasn't even certain she could remember the last time she'd spoken to him. In fact, when was the last time they'd even been in the same room?

"If he starts, I'll smack him for you," George swore. "I'm hoping he has more sense than to say something at a kid's party. Ginny'll go mental."

"If he's been drinking..."She trailed off.

"He's spiralling," George agreed. "I don't think he knows that I know but I saw him last week with another woman."

"He's cheating on Millie?" She whisper-hissed.

"No, I haven't had the chance to tell you, he and Millie are getting a divorce, they've been separated for about six months but he didn't tell us until last month."

"He _was_ cheating on Millie?"

"Yes, but he's with a new witch, Laura, who he cheated on Millie with, but I saw him with Olive Brett, you remember, the witch from the Cauldron Cafe?"

"Ah, the leggy blonde," she muttered.

"That's the one," he nodded.

"You told this Laura what you saw?"

"Nah," he shook his head. "I'm keeping out of it, it's none of my business and I don't want to bring trouble to my door, not when I've a pregnant wife and kid at home. If I'd known about Millie, then I would've told her, you know she's quiet and despite not really fitting in with the family, she's alright," he shrugged. "Of course, she's got nothing on you. The biggest mistake of his life was screwing you over."

"But it was one of the best things to happen to me."

"Definitely," George agreed. "There's not a wizard alive that deserves you."

"That settles it, I'm going to die a lonely spinster. It seems Tony was right, I might have one cat now but pretty soon, I'll be the crazy cat lady everyone avoids."

George snorted. "I promise to not let that happen."

"'Mione."

Hermione flinched before steeling her expression and slowly turning to face Ron, immediately noting the tumbler of fire whiskey in his hand, his third and he'd barely been there ten minutes.

"Hello, Ronald," she responded politely, keeping her voice calm and neutral.

"What're you doing here?"

"I thought that was obvious, there's a birthday and a party, and so here I am to celebrate."

"You missed Hugo's birthday, and Rose's," he said bitterly.

"I also missed Fred's, Lucy's and Dominique's," she pointed out. "I think you're forgetting that I live 3.5 thousand miles away. I did attempt a return, even just for the day, but I was prevented from doing so by work requirements. And despite not being able to visit, I was always sure to have the children's card and gift arrive on time. You can make me out to be a bad person all you want, you can try to convince others that I don't love your kids as much as I do everyone else's, but I don't care anymore. I'm done, I'm over it and all of your pettiness. Stay away from me this evening and we shall be fine. Come on, Fred, it seems mummy's ate all the biscuits but I know Grandma Molly's secret hiding place for her special biscuits. But you can't tell anyone, okay?" She looked down at the toddler.

"Shhh," he agreed, his index finger pressed against his mouth.

"That's right," she agreed. "Shhh, let's go."

~000~000~000~

"So, what's this I hear about you living with your boss?" Bill arched an eyebrow.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, darting her gaze between George and Harry, only three people knew and the third option was Ginny, someone she knew wouldn't spill. Whilst George was usually good at keeping secrets, when he'd had a drink his tongue wagged. Harry was just rubbish at keeping secrets in general.

Harry shifted on the couch and offered a sheepish smile.

"It slipped out," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Sniggers and chuckles sounded in the living room. Almost an hour had passed and with the drinks flowing and the children happily playing in the garden, the adults were convened in the living room, talking amongst themselves whilst Fleur and Audrey had offered to keep an eye on the children as it was growing dark outside.

"Hermione?" Molly Weasley questioned, looking to her disapprovingly.

"I am _not_ sleeping with my boss," she stressed. "He's become a very good friend of mine and we spend most of our time together, both in and out of work hours. When he discovered I was struggling to find a place to live permanently and I'd been staying in hotels before I was later blacklisted due to Sally, he found me a property I might buy. However, it is currently being built and until it's finished, he asked if I would be his roommate and take his spare bedroom."

"That seems awfully generous of him," Molly remarked suspiciously.

Hermione barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "He's a good man. He hides behind a wall of wit and sarcasm but he has a kind heart most don't see. Honestly, I believe he was lonely. He's one of the smartest people in the world, his mind exists on a completely different wavelength to others, and not only that, he's been betrayed in the past. He's unsure of who he can trust or of who might be potentially using him for their own goals."

"Kinship," George said knowingly, having learnt from the letters she'd sent him.

"I think so, with me, he might not open up the way he might with someone else, but he knows I understand him and he knows he can trust that I don't want anything from him but friendship. My agreeing to stay with him was as much for his sake as it was my own."

"Please," Ron scoffed, his eyes glassy and his face pink as he sat slumped in a conjured armchair, a tumbler of fire whiskey in hand.

Hermione had lost count of how many drinks he'd had in the last hour, the only reason he wasn't drunk was that George had been secretly running interference, weakening the potency of the fire whiskey by topping it up with water whenever Ron wasn't looking. Whilst alcohol had been provided, they always made it a point to avoid getting drunk when their children were nearby, or at the very least, when they weren't at a child's birthday party. Ron had no qualms about that.

"Of course you're sleeping with him. I know you and you'll do anything to get ahead, that's why he's moved you in with him, easier access."

Hermione took a calming breath and folded her hands into fists as eyes darted between them, just being glad the children were outside and far away from anything that might happen.

"I have no reason to get ahead, Ronald," she responded coolly. "My work speaks volumes and I don't have any other competitors vying for the same research grant or the boss' approval. I am doing very well for myself, I enjoy my job and my boss never treats me as anything but his equal despite him being the one paying my wage. I'm tired of your belittling comments and misplaced anger. It's not my fault you're a serial cheat with children that have separate mothers. It's not my fault you're stuck in a stagnant job with your superiors refusing to give you a promotion or pay rise. It's not my fault you're slowly turning into a drunken bum and if you aren't careful, you will lose everything. It's not my fault I've got my life together and I've got a successful career, something I worked exceptionally hard for."

He pushed himself up and leaned forward, downing the remainder of the amber liquid before the tumbler lazily hung from his grasp. His eyes narrowed hatefully and a cruel smile touched at his lips.

"You know what?"

The room was deadly silent, no one daring to speak or interrupt should things be made worse and they turn physical. Not when the children were too close for comfort. They knew from experience it was best to let them fight it out and then deal with the aftermath later.

"You're life's not all that perfect, is it? No matter what you say, you've no home, no family, no husband or boyfriend and no children. You're all alone with your cat and fancy job. And you know why? You're a stuck up, cold-hearted, frigid bitch. No one will ever love you and you don't deserve it. You don't deserve love or a family."

Hermione felt something inside of her shrivel and die.

Her throat tightened and her vision blurred as tears tried to come to the surface, but she fought back the sting. Stealing a glance around the silent room, Molly, Arthur, Percy and Angelina appeared to be caught between surprise and horror, Bill, George and Ginny surprised fury and Harry? He was avoiding eye contact, his gaze glued to the ground and his brow furrowed.

It had happened again.

He wasn't going to defend her.

Her eyes closed for a small moment as she gathered herself, refusing to show weakness in front of Ron lest he digs further.

"Ronald, my life and my happiness is _not_ dependant on a man or wizard. You want the truth, during our relationship _I_ was the provider, not you, and I know that bothered you. That wound you up something fierce. I do not rely on a man and neither do I expect one to provide for me. Only when I find someone I believe is worthy will I allow him into my life, and he will contribute to my happiness but he will not define. Get over yourself, you narcissistic, sexist pig."

Rising to her feet, she grabbed her coat, reached down and scooped Sally into her arms and calmly walked to the fireplace.

"Hermione?" George called, moving after her.

Stepping into the floo, she turned to face him, her eyes welling with tears and her voice breaking as she said, "Don't follow me." And then she vanished into the flames.

"I'm going to kill him," George muttered.

~000~000~000~

She wasn't certain on the time, only that she'd been walking for hours, it was dark, cold and wet.

She hadn't floo'd to Grimmauld; not wanting to be followed and fawned over, she'd floo'd to the Leaky Cauldron and she hurried out into Muggle London before she was spotted or recognised. She set Sally on the ground, trusting her familiar to either follow her or find her should she get distracted, and she began walking with no destination in mind, soon blending into the crowd as London City slowly came to life on a Friday night.

After slipping on her coat, she buried her hands in her pockets and pressed her chin to her chest, keeping her head lowered so no one would see the silent tears that spilled down her cheeks without her permission.

She found herself distractedly walking along the River Thames and when her phone rang, she knew who it was. Ginny calling from Harry's phone. (And if she was wrong and it turned out to be Fury, it's was tough luck; she was out of the country). Harry didn't have the guts to speak to her so soon after an incident with Ron. In an unexpected and childish fit of rage, she'd pulled the device from her pocket and tossed it into the river, uncaring for any later consequences it might have. She didn't want to talk to anyone and neither did she wish for the Locator Charm to be activated and have Ginny or George show up and march her home.

 _Home_ , she thought with a derisive laugh.

Ron was right. She didn't have a home. She didn't have family. She had no significant other or children. She was alone. And she had been for years.

But she was tired of being alone, tired of only having herself to rely on. She'd meant the words she'd spoken to Ron. She didn't need a man to make her happy, but it would be nice to have someone to care for again, to have someone take care of her for a change. To have someone show an interest in her career and life without having ulterior motives or expecting something in return. Even someone to share the details of her day or to watch a shitty movie on TV and falling asleep halfway through because they were so bored.

She didn't want to be alone. Not now and not in the future.

And make her mood worse... The heavens opened from up above and unleashed a wickedly cold and heavy rainfall. Within in a matter of minutes, her hair was plastered to her face, she was soaked through to the bone and her tears were disguised by the rain. Sally was far from pleased and she let her displeasure be known as Hermione held her against her body, her coat folded around her, offering little protection from the cold and rain.

She had no idea what to do or where to go.

She couldn't return to Grimmauld, she wasn't ready to face anyone, least of all Harry. Her belongings were in her room, she didn't have her trusty beaded bag with her and neither did she have any money (but for a few coins in change from the previous day) so she might rent a hotel for the night. All she had was her wand and the wet clothes on her back.

She ducked beneath a bus shelter in hopes of getting a reprieve from the rain and that it would slow to a stop. When a bus pulled up a few minutes later and let the passengers off, the driver looked to her expectantly and after biting her lip, she shifted her coat to better hide her shaking familiar and produced the coins from her pocket, paying for a bus ticket to Merlin knew where.

She took a seat at the very back, grateful when she felt heat radiating from one of the vents by her feet and she felt Sally shift closer to it, too. Her head pressing against the window as her unfocused gaze watched the passing traffic and the rain droplets rolling down the glass, her mind went blank.

She allowed her mind to switch off, allowing her heart to lead her for once rather than relying on her intelligence. She wasn't certain where she'd end up, she only hoped it wouldn't get her into trouble.

She was surprised when she found herself walking down the street, having gotten off the bus without realising she'd done so, and although it hadn't stopped raining, it had slowed and her vision wasn't completely blurred.

When she felt herself being bathed in more light than the lampposts had previously offered, she slowed to a stop and lifted her head, her eyes immediately being drawn to the brightly lit brick building across the street.

She blinked in surprised confusion.

She'd allowed her heart to guide her and it had guided her straight to the Corinthia. Her heart had taken her to Tony Stark.

She felt her mouth part and there was an insistent tugging inside of her, as if it were trying to pull her closer to the hotel.

Hermione wanted someone to care for and for someone to care for her in return. Tony did that. She wanted to share little details about her day with someone who listened with rapt attention. Tony did that. She wanted someone to watch movies with until they fell asleep on the couch together. She did that with Tony.

Perhaps she wasn't as alone as she'd thought. Perhaps Tony was her family. Perhaps both she and Ron were wrong.

Without realising until it was too late, her feet had carried her across the road until she stood before the large building, her head tilting back and her eyes peering up at the many floors, wondering which one housed the Royal Penthouse suite.

Readjusting her coat and praying that Sally didn't give her away, (and Merlin knew how she'd fallen asleep) Hermione climbed the steps and the two doormen opened the large doors for her, greeting her with a smile and doing a remarkable job of keeping their judgement on her appearance from their faces.

Hermione knew she looked out of place. Standing in a brightly lit grand foyer with her hair, jeans, trainers and coat soaked through, in all honestly, she looked homeless. Ignoring the glances and whispers that picked up from the current guests coming and going, she left wet footprints in her wake as she approached the checking-in station, patiently waiting in the small queue that had formed.

When the couple before her took their leave towards the lift, peering at her over their shoulders in disgust and muttering something in a foreign language, German, she thought, she stepped up to the counter.

The young brunette behind the counter looked to be in her early-twenties, her uniform was immaculate but she wore a little too much makeup for Hermione's tastes, but, to each their own. And she had no right to be judgemental given her own appearance. The woman's dark green eyes lifted from the hidden computer screen, her smile faltering.

"Welcome to the Corinthia, how might I help you?" She repeated the same generic greeting Hermione'd heard her use on the couple before her.

"I'm Hermione Granger, I'm here to see Tony Stark. I believe he is residing in the Royal Penthouse suite."

The woman's professional smile fell from her face.

"Mr. Stark's security detail has asked that we protect his privacy to our highest standards. As such, he is not receiving visitors."

"I know," Hermione responded. "He doesn't like being interrupted, however, he is potentially expecting me."

"I highly doubt that," the young woman breathed out, giving Hermione a judgemental once over.

She felt her hackles rise. Hermione wasn't supposed to have heard it, she was sure.

"I'm not a crazy stalker, a fangirl or a member of the press. I happen to work _with_ Mr. Stark in his Manhattan office. If I didn't know him personally, how would I have come by the information that he is staying in the Royal Penthouse suite, unless he told me himself? He told me he would have my name added to the bypass security list. I know his personal bodyguard quite well, too. Mr. Happy Hogan."

"Those details are easily found online," replied the brunette. "Miss..."

" _Doctor_ ," Hermione corrected. "Dr. Hermione Granger."

"Doctor," she repeated with a snooty tone. Hermione wanted to smack her. How dare she look down at her? Despite the image the woman held, Hermione knew her earrings weren't real diamonds, and the watch on her wrist, neither was that real Gucci. "I must ask that you leave, you are being disruptive and we have strict policies regarding such behaviour."

"Just call his room. Tell him I'm here, if he denies knowing me, I'll leave without issue. If not, call Mr. Hogan."

"Miss, if you do not leave, I must call security."

"I want to speak to your manager. Right now."

"Miss..."

"No, I have every right to speak with the manager."

And as luck would have it, she happened to appear.

The raven-haired woman looked to be in her mid-forties, her hazel eyes observing the disturbance with caution. Her low heels clacked against the marble flooring as she approached, clasping her hands together and halting to a stop behind the seated brunette.

"I'm Janice Clark, the night manager, I couldn't help but notice there seems to be an issue. Perhaps I might be of assistance?" She greeted politely.

 _Well_ , thought Hermione, _At least this woman had the good sense keep her expression neutral._

"I was asking Miss. Granger..."

"Doctor," Hermione interrupted.

"If she would please leave before I called for security to escort her out of the building."

"And the issue?" The manager looked to the brunette.

"She claims to be a friend of Mr. Stark's and as asked for access to the Royal Penthouse."

The manager looked to Hermione.

"As I tried to explain to this young woman," Hermione began, sending a not so impressed glance her way, "I am Dr. Hermione Granger, I work alongside Mr. Stark in his Manhattan office, whilst he might not be expecting me this evening, he is aware that my arrival is a possibility. All I ask is that a call is made to his suite, should he refuse to see me, I will leave. I don't see the issue with such a simple request."

"And might you be able to contact Mr. Stark yourself?" The manager asked.

Hermione pursed her lips. "No," she sighed. "I had an incident later this evening in which my mobile was damaged and unfortunately, I can't remember his personal phone number."

"That is unfortunate," she replied. Hermione knew she didn't believe her.

"Look," Hermione fisted her hands, having long since lost her patience. "I don't wish to be rude but I've had an incredibly terrible day. My appearance, I assure you, I don't normally look as such. I was attending my Godson's birthday party which requires casual dress and I was caught in the rain unexpectedly. Please, just phone his room, if not, contact Happy Hogan, he will vouch for me. Do this, and I'll leave without hassle."

The manager eyed her cautiously before slowly nodding. "Lindsey, please place a call to the Royal Penthouse," she instructed.

"Mr. Stark asked that he not be disturbed," she replied.

"That's because he doesn't want you to patch Pepper Potts through, should she call. He's always ignoring her emails and sending her to voice mail," Hermione said knowingly.

"Lindsey," the manager warned.

The brunette reached for the phone and brought it to her ear, Hermione unable to see what her other hand was doing.

"Good evening, Mr. Stark," the brunette greeted cheerily. Hermione really wanted to smack her. "I'm sorry to interrupt but I have a Miss. Hermione Granger at the front...," she finished, drawing the phone back from her ear. "He hung up."

Hermione felt her face fall and her insides twist.

There was no way he was just going to ignore her. He wouldn't do that, she told herself. Not when she needed him.

"Well," the manager cleared her throat. "It seems the matter has been settled. Now, please leave before security is called."

Closing her eyes and swallowing back the embarrassment and disappointment, she made to turn and take her leave but a lift dinged open and she heard footsteps she'd recognise anywhere.

"Ah, Granger, what a surprise, I wasn't..." He trailed off when Hermione turned to face him, seeing him approaching from what looked to be a separate lift from the others in the hotel. He was dressed in one of his finest business suits and his shiny black shoes and when she looked to his face, she saw his eyes widen a fraction, his brow furrow and his teasing smile fell from his face. "What happened?" He demanded, uncaring for the crowd that had gathered, it only growing larger with his arrival.

"Long story," she muttered, lowering her gaze.

"You've been crying," he observed, looking down at her in concern as he stopped before her.

How the hell did he know that?

"No, I haven't," she denied immediately.

"You can't lie to me, I know you too well," he folded his arms. "Why are you wet?" He asked, lifting his gaze to the two women, both clearly surprised to learn Hermione had been telling the truth. "Why is she wet? I thought you Brits were supposed to be smart, no one thought to get her a towel?" The insinuation behind his words was clear, as was his unimpressed scowl and the manager sent a quick signal to a member of staff to retrieve a towel or two.

"What are you doing out here? You should've just come straight up where we could've gotten you dried off."

"They wouldn't let me," she muttered, shifting on her feet. "I've been here for at least fifteen minutes. I believe they think me to be a crazed stalker, a fangirl, a member of the press and my personal favourite, a homeless nutter."

"Excuse me?" His voice changed and his folded arms dropped to his sides as he turned his eyes to the two nervous-looking women behind the counter. "Why was she not given immediate access? I specifically named her as being capable of bypassing all security measures."

"I tried to explain, they wouldn't listen," said Hermione. "I asked several times that they call you or Happy."

"I was not aware," the manager responded, shifting uncomfortably under Tony's penetrating stare.

"I told you," Hermione looked to the brunette.

"That's right, she did," added the sixty-something woman behind her in the queue. " _Twice_ , if my memory serves me right."

The manager looked to the brunette. "Lindsey, is this true?"

"Yes," she admitted, lowering her gaze.

"Had you asked for ID, this matter wouldn't have been an issue. And had you called the first time she'd asked, my best employee wouldn't be freezing her ass off in your foyer. And had your staff bothered to check if I had given someone unlimited access, right now I would be in a much better mood. Unfortunately, I am very disappointed in the service the London branch of the Corinthia chain offers."

The manager paled dramatically.

"Rest assured, I will _not_ be staying here again and I'll be certain to send word of my experience to Pisani and whichever of his six kids that is now the CEO since his retirement. We're very good friends and he values my opinion."

"Mr. Stark, surely there is no need for such a measure," the manager began but Tony's glare silenced the remainder of her words.

"There is every need. From what I've gathered, this hotel employs judgemental, snobby idiots."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. It wasn't like Tony to insult someone so blatantly. He was usually more subtle; the majority of the time people didn't even realise he was insulting them.

"Dr. Granger is one of the smartest and most caring women I've ever had the pleasure of meeting and for you to treat her the way you have is unforgivable. They say men are the less observant sex and yet it took me only a single glance to realise that she has clearly had a trying day and a little kindness would've been appreciated. I will be suggesting to Pasini that he employs staff who are less judgmental, more understanding, who pay closer attention to detail and that listen to anyone that steps through those doors."

Tony looked to the right when a red-faced staff member appeared and held out a folded towel.

" _One_ towel?" He arched an eyebrow. "And they say Americans are idiots." He reached for it and slung it around Hermione's shoulders. "Let's go, Poppins, they don't deserve our awesomeness."

He folded his hand around her wrist and tugged her after him towards the lift, but paused when they heard a camera.

Peering over his shoulder, he looked out at the large crowd whispering between each other.

"Who took that?"

A sheepish-looking teen held his hand up.

"How's my hair look?"

The teen blinked, clearly surprised that Tony was speaking to him. "Good?"

Tony nodded. "If that ends up online, I'll track you down and blast a hole through your computer _and_ games console. Dr. Granger is not at her best and for the world to see that would be unforgivable." He continued towards the lift and pulled her in after him and the moment the doors closed, he turned to her. "What happened?"

"Nothing," she lied.

"You're a shit liar," he remarked.

A noise of surprise left her when two warm hands settled around the back of her neck, thumbs pressing against her jaw and tilting her head back, forcing her to look at him.

"What happened?" He repeated. "I know you, you wouldn't leave your friends for no reason. Tell me."

"Don't look at me like that," she muttered.

"Like?" He prompted, his eyes boring into hers.

"Like you care."

His brow furrowed. "I _do_ care."

Tears swam in her eyes and they fluttered closed, a tear leaking. Unexpectedly, he pulled her against him into a hug.

"Tony! Your suit!" Her voice was muffled by his chest.

"What? This old thing? It's only Armani, I don't even like it that much."

" _Only_ Armani," she scoffed to cover a sniffle.

"We better get you dry before you catch hypothermia," he said, feeling her body shaking in his hold. "Damn idiots," he grumbled.

A sudden meow sounded and he drew back from her, blinking in surprise when a wet, furry head poked out of the opening at the top of Hermione's coat.

"Has she been _in_ there this whole time?" He questioned in disbelief.

"Yes, sleeping."

"Okay," he drew out the word slowly before shaking his head, a noise of amusement leaving him. "They had a cat right under their nose and didn't even notice! I'm not going to lie, I did think you were looking a bit on the rounder..."

"Don't finish that sentence," Hermione warned.

He held his hands up. "Is this how you snuck her into the other hotels?" He asked curiously, Tony carding his fingers through the slowly drying fur on Sally's head and she released a meow.

"Most of the time," she shrugged a single shoulder.

"Let's get you dry," he said to the cat. He plucked her from Hermione's cat, stole the towel from around her shoulders and folded it around Sally.

"What happened to catching hypothermia?" Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"You're bigger than she is, your body's capable of withstanding more than hers," he argued.

When the lift dinged open, Hermione followed after him when he stepped out and into his suite.

"A private lift? Really?"

"One of the perks," he shrugged.

Hermione darted a quick glance about her surroundings, noting the modern but elegant decor and theme throughout, the lounge with plush furniture and a fireplace, a dining room and several other additional rooms but the doors were closed, hiding its contents.

"First things first, we need to get you warm. So, I think a bath's in order."

"Tony, that's not..."

"Don't argue with me, just follow me," he instructed, leading the way to a beautifully decorated bedroom which came with its own bathroom, the bathtub almost being bigger than the bed and there was a TV built into the wall. "Run yourself a bath, I'll be back in a minute."

He disappeared and after rolling her eyes to herself, she admitted that after the day she'd had, a bath did sound good and so she turned on the taps and added some of the complimentary bath lotions until bubbles surfaced.

When Tony returned, he was without Sally and he carried two grey items in hand before holding them out to her, Hermione taking them in confusion and seeing that one was a t-shirt and the other tracksuit bottoms.

"What? You need dry clothing to change into, it's all I have," he shrugged. "Anyway, I'll be in the lounge with Sally when you're ready," he said over his shoulder, closing the bathroom door behind him.

~000~000~000~

"How d'you feel?" Tony asked, drawing his eyes away from the TV and to her when she stepped into the lounge.

Admittedly, the place was so bloody big she'd gotten lost and had wound up in a study, a powder room and a second living room that also had a balcony.

Whilst she'd enjoyed her bath, she'd been sure to be as quick as possible, not wanting Tony to wait too long for her to finish and after stepping out of the hot water and drying off, she used her wand to dry and clean her underwear before slipping on the clothing Tony had given her. As expected, they were too big but she couldn't do anything magically as he'd obviously notice and get suspicious. She'd settled for tucking the t-shirt into the waistband of the bottoms, which she'd rolled over to prevent them falling down. With her skin pink from the water and her hair wrapped up in a towel, she crossed to the couch and took a seat on the opposite side, pulling her feet up and tucking them under her.

She noted Sally now dry and sleeping on the rug before the lit fireplace, Tony had his feet propped up on the glass coffee table and had also changed into clothing similar to hers, and rain still pelted against the windows.

He switched off the TV and then reached down the side of the couch, drawing back with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"You need a drink."

"Several," she agreed.

"You know, I'm tempted to _accidentally_ spill this on the couch," he confessed, pouring the red wine into the glass before handing it to Hermione.

"They'd just make you pay for it," she pointed out.

"Nah, they're going to do everything to get on my good side now."

"Let the arse kissing commence," she toasted before sipping from her glass.

"So, why didn't _you_ call me?"

She sighed and set her elbow on the back of the couch, her hand propping her head up as she leaned against the backrest.

"I couldn't remember your number and I may have thrown my phone into the River Thames," she shrugged.

He snorted. "Why? Does this have something to do with why you were crying? And don't lie to me. I want you to tell me everything."

Against her better judgement, she did.

~000~000~000~

Tony did not look pleased. Not in the slightest.

"That bastard!" He exclaimed angrily.

"Yeah, he is," she agreed, taking the bottle from the coffee table and drinking from it, forging the glass.

They were on their third bottle of wine, Hermione needing it to help her tell Tony all she'd been up to since they'd arrived in London, and most importantly, her argument with Ron.

"How dare he say that to you? And your friend, Harry, was it? He sat there and didn't get involved? Their addresses, Poppins. I want them both. Where's my suit? I'mma fly over there and kill both of them."

Tony stood to his feet but Hermione reached out and wrapped her fingers around his wrist, tugging him backwards until he collapsed onto the couch.

"You're not going anywhere," she protested, knowing she really should stop drinking before she felt the effects in the morning. "They both have kids," she pointed out. "Drink this," she shoved the bottle in front of his face and Tony took it with a huff, taking a large swig. "It's always been this way, and I don't know why I convinced myself it was going to change. It's not. Ron's an arsehole, always has been, especially since I called off the wedding. And, Harry? He always takes his side, no matter who's at fault. In his eyes, Ron can do no wrong, and it's shit."

"Really shit," he nodded.

"When he said those things to me, I wanted to hurt him. Like _really_ hurt him."

"I'll do it for you," he offered.

"I reckon George's already beaten you to it, he didn't look happy when I left, neither did Ginny for that matter. But when I left, I had no idea where I was going or what I was going to do. I didn't want to go back to Harry's because that's the first place they'd look. So I had no clothing or money or anything but Sally, and subconsciously, I found myself standing outside the hotel. And I plan on avoiding them for as long as possible."

"And you're staying with me, here," Tony added confidently.

"I can't."

"You can," he argued. "We _live_ together, Roomy. There's no difference between the Tower and a hotel. The guest suite's all done up and waiting for you. And to be honest, I've missed you."

"Awwww!" Hermione drew out, leaning over to pinch his cheek and he swatted her hands away.

"You're saying you didn't miss me?"

"Not even a little bit."

"Liar," he scowled, taking another swig from the bottle.

"Alright, maybe a little. Sleeping through the night without being woken by an explosion, shout of joy or cried curse word did throw me a little. I've gotten used to you being around all the time," her eyes moved to the ground and she fell silent for a few moments. "What if Ron was right?"

"I doubt it, from what you've told me, the jackass can't even tie his own shoelaces."

Hermione bit her lip. That was true, actually. He'd never learned. He'd either wear Velcro shoes or tuck the laces inside, and in cases where he had to tie his laces, he'd just use magic.

"And no matter what he said or how many times he says it, you do deserve to be happy. And you're not alone because you have me."

"You know, I don't think I've ever said this aloud but I hate coming back, and the only reason I do is for the kids. Everyone has their own lives and careers and families and we've veered off in different directions, I'm not as close to the people I once was, and I'm closer to the people I never thought would have an impact on my life when I was younger. I'm the only one without the house, wedding ring and kids, and I've seen the way some of them look at me. They pity me. And I hate it. I've still got time, right? This place, it didn't feel like home for a long time even before I was shipped off to SHIELD. That didn't feel like home. But at the Tower, with you and Sally, I think it's exactly what I need. Thank you, Tony," Hermione mumbled, feeling sleep quickly setting in. She shouldn't have had so much wine.

"For?" He prompted.

She gave a sleepy smile. "For stealing me from Fury."

As sleep claimed her, her head lying atop her arm which was flung over the back of the couch, Tony watched her for a moment. Placing the half-empty bottle of wine on the coffee table, he reached for his earpiece and slipped it on before he stood from the couch, lifted Hermione into his arms and carried her to the guest room.

"Jarvis?"

"Yes, Sir," replied the A.I.

"Harry James Potter, Ronald Billius Weasley, I want everything you can find on them."

"Right away, Sir. But might I suggest caution? I don't believe Dr. Granger will appreciate you digging into her life in such an intrusive manner."

"They hurt her, Jarvis, I'm not letting that go," was Tony's only reply.

Kicking the door open, he stepped into the guest suite and moved to lay Hermione on the bed, pulling the blanket out from beneath her and covering her with it. She shifted in her sleep, rolling over onto her side and automatically pulling a pillow over to her, spooning it. Feeling Sally rubbing against his ankles, he lifted the little feline onto the bed and she climbed atop the cushion Hermione held, her nose brushing Hermione's.

"I didn't know it then but stealing you from Fury's one of the best decisions I've made," he muttered to himself.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 28

"Wow! Attractive," Tony remarked, looking up from the tablet that was propped up on the surface of the dining table whilst he sipped from his no doubt highly expensive blend of coffee.

Hermione scowled at him and reached up to brush her hair back from her face, her other hand covering her mouth as she yawned.

"What? You're my roommate, not my partner or boyfriend. I've no reason to impressive you or attempt to catfish you by putting on my makeup first thing in the morning before you see me. You have full, unobstructed access to my disastrous bed hair, morning displeasure and bad breath."

Tony snorted and lifted his coffee in a toast. "Amen. It's so much easier not having to put lipstick on in the morning before someone sees me."

"Idiot," she rolled her eyes, tiredly slumping into the seat across from him, once more stifling a yawn.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Rubbish," she grumbled.

He looked to her concerned. "You had that asshole playing on your mind?"

"No," she shook her head, slouching forward, folding her arms on the table and pressing her face into the crook it created. "Unfortunately, being with them brings back unpleasant memories of the past."

"And those would be?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Something truly horrific and traumatising."

"You went to a posh, private boarding school," he pointed out.

"But that doesn't mean my experience was a good one. Far, far from it. During my school years, I was forced to face some life-threatening and life-altering decisions and situations, and no, I won't explain further, I try to avoid talking about my past as much as possible."

Tony eyed her curiously, his gaze darting between her and his tablet.

"You say you attended this school between eleven and eighteen, right?"

"Hmmm, your point?"

"So that means your friends did, too."

"And?" She questioned, slowly lifting her face from her arms and looking to him suspiciously.

"Nothing, just trying to get the facts in order," he responded innocently. "I ordered for you, tea and crumpets."

"What did I say about stereotyping me?" She scowled. "I don't even like crumpets."

He held his hands up in surrender. "Just trying to make you feel more at home."

"I'm in London, you pillock. I was born _and_ raised here."

"Fair point," he nodded. "That's why I also ordered one of everything on the breakfast menu, just to cover my bases."

"Of course you did," she said unsurprised, standing from the table and crossing to the kitchen that was fitted with counters, cupboards and a fully stocked wine rack.

After pouring herself a cup of tea and selecting herself a portion of fresh fruit, she returned to the table, immediately noting that Tony eyed her chosen meal disapprovingly.

"I'm not that hungry," she offered with a shrug. He pursed his lips unhappily. "And have _you_ eaten this morning?" She fired back knowingly. "Exactly, don't be a hypocrite."

Scowling, he stood from the table, headed for the kitchen and returned moments later with a number of food items sat on a plate and a knife and fork in hand.

"Happy?"

"Not really, I shouldn't have to remind you to eat. You preach self-care but don't practice what you preach."

"Shut up and eat your fruit," he grumbled, making a start on his own breakfast. "What's today's plan?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "You've got your business to think about and I'm not going anywhere near Harry or Ron."

"I've cancelled my appointments and meetings for today."

"What? Why?" She blinked slowly.

"Didn't feel like spending my Saturday in a foreign country working," he shrugged. "Besides, I've gotten what I came for."

"You found a property?"

"Two potential buildings and a patch of land I might have an office built. Before I make a final decision, I'll have the accounts team crunch the numbers and see which is more cost-efficient. Build a building from scratch, or remodel and kit-out an existing one."

"Both have their merits," she mused. "One will be more time-efficient whereas the other is more likely to be more sustainable given the recent improvements in construction materials."

"I'm not in a rush, it can take between eight months up to a year just to have the transfers arranged for existing employees, and I need someone I can trust to oversee the operation once it's underway. Stark Industries receives hundreds of thousands applications a year, the HR team will be slammed trying to determine who should make it to an interview and who shouldn't."

"And that's why I only take on free-lance work. I couldn't be bothered with the business side of things. Just let me do my job and get out of my way."

"That's why I made Pepper CEO," Tony agreed. "She's constantly on my ass about missing meetings and avoiding cooperate events, but I've more time to work on the things I want to. Anyway, since you're avoiding your friends, and rightly so, and I'm not working today, I thought you might be a good host and show me 'round the city."

She arched an eyebrow. "I know you've been to London before."

"And I've seen the National History Museum, Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London, the London Bridge, Big Ben and all of that touristy shit," he listed easily and Hermione rolled his eyes. "Been _inside_ most of them too, Hell, I've met the Queen and had dinner with her... But I want to see the things tourists don't, and only someone who was born and raised here can do that."

"Sorry to say, I've got no clothes and I can't go out looking like this," she gestured to herself with a lazy wave of her hand, bringing note to the overly large clothing she wore that belonged to him. "My clothes from yesterday have disappeared."

"Already taken care of," he waved her off. "Did you know that this suite comes with a personal shopper?"

"Oh no," she groaned, dropping her face into her hands.

"Oh yes," he grinned. "And given the little snafu they made last night, they were only too accommodating when I requested a personal shopper at four-thirty in the morning."

"And my clothes?"

"How else was she to know your size?" He responded innocently.

"I dread to think what she bought me," Hermione grumbled, lifting her head and looking to him. "If you want to see things the way I do, we've got to blend in as much as possible, and if she purchases anything remotely similar to the luxury brands you wear, that's not going to happen. And know that I intend to repay you for everything."

"Nope," he popped the 'p', "This one's on the hotel. The service comes included in the price, but the clothes are paid out of the guest's pocket. This time, however, they're not trying to kiss my ass but _yours_ , hoping that by appeasing you it'll appease me and stop me from speaking to Pisani."

"Do you even know him? Or were you just lying?"

"Of course, I know him. We played golf in Nevada last year."

"You hate golf," Hermione deadpanned.

"Most boring sport in the world," he agreed. "But Pisani loves it," he shrugged. "It's a wonder how I made it through the day."

"You poor baby," she snarked.

"As for the clothes, I'd take them if I were you, even if you don't like them. They're free."

"Really," she rolled her eyes at him. "What time is it, anyway?"

"A little after seven-thirty," he responded. "The clothes should be here by eight."

"Most places don't open until nine," she pointed out.

"I know, but that's the time they promised, if not... I'm going to enjoy making that call," he grinned. "As for you wishing to blend in..." He gestured to himself.

"Okay?" She questioned slowly.

"Look at me."

"I am."

He huffed. "I'm Iron Man."

"Love bringing that one up, don't you?" She teased.

"Every chance I get," he agreed and she sniggered at him. "How the Hell am I suppose to walk out of this hotel without someone noticing?"

"I've my ways, don't worry."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "This have something to do with these special abilities of yours that I've yet to see?"

"Maybe," she shrugged, neither admitting nor denying it. "But if I'm taking you out into the city, I choose where we go."

"Well, that's a given, and exactly what I want."

The lift dinged open and as they both leaned over the dining table to see around the door, they saw Sally step out, her fluffy tail held high as it lazily swished with every step she took.

"I wondered where she'd went," Hermione said aloud.

"Seriously! _How_ the fuck does she do that?!" Tony demanded.

"Not a clue, I'm not even sure I _want_ to know," Hermione shrugged. "But I'm not surprised she returned when there's food on the go... Oh, look at that, she's on the counter, sniffing at the offerings. I hope you didn't want anything else."

~000~000~000~

"Granger, we don't have all day, get your ass out here!" Tony called, stood by the lift and waiting to leave, his eyes held on the device in his hand, watching as he had Jarvis re-running the background checks he'd ordered for the fourth time.

He knew something was amiss. There was no way he was willing to accept the current findings.

"I feel ridiculous!" She called back.

"I'm sure you look fine!"

"You're not the one that's going to stick out, _I_ am," she grumbled, reluctantly stepping from her room and navigating her way through the many rooms of the suite until she spotted Tony, leaning against the wall and dressed casually in jeans, a t-shirt, trainers and a leather jacket.

"You look great, stop complaining," he told her, shifting his phone into his pocket and pushing away from the wall.

"Right now, I'm convinced I'm wearing a year's rent for my first ever flat," she folded her arms and Tony snorted at her. "I simply chose the least expensive-looking and eye-catching items, and still, I'm going to stick out like a saw thumb!" She complained.

The personal shopper had arrived at exactly eight o'clock on the dot, the redhead's cheeks tinted pink, her chest rising and falling heavily and a frazzled expression on her face. Seeing the number of bags and the designer names that adorned them, Hermione had dreaded the reveal.

After leading the twenty-something woman to her room and ignoring Tony's sniggers at her grimace, she'd been quick to get rid of the woman, uncaring that she was determined to explain everything she'd chosen and why. Hermione didn't care. Clothes were clothes. She wore them for practicality, to simply keep her warm and covered, not to impress anyone or boast about her financial standing.

Hermione had never seen so many bags of clothing and she was unsure of how the redhead had gotten her hands on the clothes given the time Tony had requested her services and that the retail shops had yet to open.

After going through the many items, ranging from jumpers to jeans to shoes to jewellery, she'd chosen the items she hoped were the least recognisable and would allow her to better blend in.

As such, she stood before Tony wearing black Jimmy Choo knee-length boots, dark Vivianne Westwood jeans, a white cashmere jumper by Tom Ford, a matching Jimmy Choo handbag sat over her shoulder, and to complete the look, a dark trench coat by Burberry.

"You look a million bucks," Tony complimented with a shrug.

"That's probably what all of this cost," she argued and he snorted. "And she didn't buy me any practical underwear," she scowled, subtly reaching up to readjust her bra. "Only bloody lingerie."

"Really?" Tony's eyebrow arched and his mouth twitched. "Care to offer a peak?"

"Not a chance in Hell," she shot him a withering glare.

"Worth a try."

"This," she gestured to her clothing with a wave of her hand, "This is just begging someone to mug me."

"Not when you've got Iron Man by your side."

"No one's going to know it's you, remember?" She reminded him.

"And how do you plan for me to blend in?"

"I have my ways. Let's go before I change my mind."

Approaching, she stepped into the lift and Tony followed behind her, descending to the foyer and Tony led the way to the front desk, the young man behind the counter almost falling off his seat in his haste to stand to his feet and greet them, or more so Tony.

"Mr. Stark."

At the mention of Tony's name, a second older man seemed to appear from nowhere. If Hermione didn't know any better she'd have thought he'd apparated in.

"Good morning, Mr. Stark, I'm Gerald Collinson, the day manager," he greeted. Hermione barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "Miss. Granger," he tipped his head.

"Doctor," Tony corrected automatically, his face blank and expressionless.

"My apologies," he apologised quickly. "I do hope Miss. Simpson fulfilled her responsibilities to your liking."

"She was quite efficient," she responded, her tone clipped but polite.

The manager visibly looked relieved. "Wonderful. Mr. Stark, your car is waiting for you in the private parking bays. Harold will be your chauffer this day."

"I don't require a driver, just the car."

The manager blinked slowly, taken aback for a moment. "Oh, of course," he cleared his throat. "I will alert Harold at once, and I will have a member of staff escort you to the underground parking bays."

"No need," Tony interrupted. "Just point me in the right direction and we'll be fine."

"Yes, Mr. Stark," the manager nodded before he proceeded to give them directions.

"One more thing," Tony began, pausing in his steps to leave. "Why did I find strawberries amongst my breakfast?"

"Strawberries?" The manager echoed in confusion.

"Yes, I made it very clear that Dr. Granger is fatally allergic," Tony said gravely.

The manager paled and looked about ready to keel over and die.

"Mr. Stark, I can only apologise. I will speak to the kitchen staff immediately and ensure the appropriate course of action is taken."

"Good."

He reached behind him and slipped his fingers around her wrist, tugging her away from the desk and making the journey towards the underground parking structure, camera flashes going off behind them.

"What was all that about?" Hermione asked in confusion. "I'm not allergic to strawberries."

He peered at her over his shoulder, his mouth twitching into a smirk. "He doesn't know that."

She sighed. "You're not letting this go, are you?"

"With the way they treated you? No."

When they reached their destination, a member of staff handed them the car keys and pointed them in the direction of bay 12, bringing them to a sleek black Audi with tinted windows.

"Why'd you request a car when you have Happy? Actually, _where_ is he?" Hermione questioned as they neared the car.

"Gave him the weekend off to explore the city and play tourist," he shrugged. "The car and chauffeur come with the suite, and with Happy driving the SUV, the press will be following him, expecting me to be with him."

"Smart," she nodded.

"Genius," he pointed to himself and she rolled her eyes. "So, you're driving today," he told her, setting the keys in her hand and heading for the driver's side door.

"Tony, wrong door," she reminded. "We drive on the left, driver's seat's on the right."

"One of the reason's I'm not driving," he responded, correcting his mistake and rounding the car to the passenger's side. "Also, you're the tour guide so you drive."

"I'd intended on walking. Parking in the city's a damn nightmare."

"Park wherever you want; I'll pay the parking tickets," he shrugged, unconcerned. "Better yet, the hotel will."

Sighing, she slipped off her bag and set it in the back seat before climbing into the driver's seat, fastening her seatbelt and switching on the ignition.

"So, where to first?"

"Well, it's not even nine o'clock in the morning, it's Autumn and freezing, so there's only one place to go to start off our day. And before we do, put this on."

She produced a pewter ring from her pocket and held it out in offering.

"Why?" He eyed it cautiously, curiously.

"If you wish to go unnoticed, you'll wear it."

"And how is that supposed to help me blend in?"

"It's a secret."

"I hate you," he grumbled, taking the ring from her and slipping it on his middle finger. "Whoa!" Tony shuddered. " _What_ was that? It felt like someone was walking over my grave," he grimaced.

"Then it's working, we best go, traffic this time of day's going to be murder."

~000~000~000~

"Starbucks?" He deadpanned.

"Yep," she popped the 'p', her hands stashed in her pockets to fend off the morning chill as they stood outside the well-known coffee shop. "Lesson number one, as I've said before, not every Brit likes tea and you'll be hard-pressed to not find a Starbucks on every street corner. London is much like New York in that regard. So, in you go," she shooed him inside and as they waited in line, she could see Tony getting antsy, both from having to wait and from trying to figure out how and why he wasn't being recognised.

After Tony ordered an overly sweet coffee and Hermione her tea, they took their leave, leisurely walking down the street.

"Today, I've decided to show you something I've never shown anyone else."

Tony looked to her, arching an eyebrow. "And that is?"

"I'm not telling you yet, and I'm trying to work up the courage into actually doing it."

"Why?" His brow furrowed.

"Because it's a painful reminder of what I lost."

~000~000~000~

The day passed slowly with Hermione showing Tony around the city, taking him to her favourite book shops, showing him her favourite cafes and restaurants, sitting by the River Thames as Tony tried his first official authentic fish and chips lunch, (something he'd loved and swore he'd have a fish and chips shop built in New York) and casually strolling down the streets.

After returning to the car, Tony's eyes barely left Hermione as he watched her programme an address into the GPS and she started on her journey, being uncharacteristically silent for most of the half-hour drive.

When she pulled onto a quiet, suburban-like street occupied by semi-detached two-story houses, his eyes looked to her questioningly but he received no answer as she kept her eyes forward. She came to a stop at the side of the road and climbed out of the car, Tony following her as she took a seat on a wooden bench that was placed by a large patch of grass which he could both see and hear children playing with a ball and skipping ropes.

She folded her hands in her pockets and crossed one leg over the other whilst he sat with his knees apart, his hands in his pockets and slouched slightly.

"What are we doing here?" He finally asked.

"This is where it all began," she replied quietly, her eyes locked on the house directly before her across the street.

It had a white door and window panes, a small garden lined with bushes and trees, a gravel pathway and hanging baskets by the door.

"We're in Richmond. This is my childhood home."

Tony blinked slowly in surprise, his eyes darting between the house and her. It wasn't at all what he'd imagined. It seemed too... Plain. Boring. Normal. Hermione Granger was anything but.

"I lived here for seventeen years, my parents almost thirty. The reason I'm an only child is that my parents struggled to conceive, my mother suffered two miscarriages and when they agreed they'd have to try other options should they wish to have children, my mother discovered she was pregnant with me. I was their miracle baby."

Tony observed her closely, her voice quiet but controlled, her expression calm and blank, but her eyes... Pain. Trauma. Guilt. Longing.

"As a young child I was doted on, spoilt rotten, but when I started reception and as I aged they often worked later hours, spent more time at the practice... They were dentists, both of them," she told him.

Again, Tony had not expected to discover her parents had such normal careers.

"They were very strict on oral hygiene, as you can imagine. They never let me have candy as a kid," her mouth twitched. "Because they worked so much, they missed quite a lot of my life, more so when I went off to Hogwarts. During the school holidays, I spent most of my time with Harry and Ron at school, or with Ron's family. I loved my parents but our relationship was strained the moment McGonagall showed up at my door. You see," she paused, taking a breath and for some reason, Tony found himself holding his own. "I'm different. _Very_ different. When I was younger, strange things used to happen to and around me and it wasn't until she came for a visit that we finally knew what it was. And that day, I learned that I wasn't alone. I learned there was a whole hidden community of people that were just like me, that could do the things I could. From that day, my parents tried to understand what I was but I know it was difficult for them. They couldn't do the things I could, they weren't allowed to see the wonderful things I had access to. And that strained our relationship. It's one of the reasons I hardly returned home in my later years at Hogwarts, and why I went to Ron's. His family understood and they never treated me as anything but their daughter. They practically raised me and helped me to understand myself, helped me to not be ashamed of who I am."

He had so many questions but he didn't wish to interrupt, not when she was willingly revealing parts of her past to him, even if she was choosing her words carefully. It was still one step closer into finding out more about her and her secret-Avenger-worthy abilities.

"When I was seventeen..." She paused once more, Tony hearing the pain seeping into her voice as it cracked. "My parents died."

He felt his stomach plummet to his feet, his throat burn as bile tried to make an exit through his mouth and something cold seemed to settle around his heart. Could it get any worse?

"They were murdered."

Apparently so.

"I found their bodies."

Fuck's sake!

Silently, he slotted his arm around her shoulders and gave a gentle tug; she went willingly, shuffling closer and tilting her head to press against his shoulder and Tony set his chin atop her head.

"It was my fault."

"Don't say that," he muttered.

"It was," she whispered.

"Of course it wasn't your fault."

"It was, Tony. It was my fault because I exist. They are dead because I was born. If I weren't here, they would be alive."

"Bullshit. I don't want to live in a world where Hermione Granger doesn't exist. And neither do I believe it was your fault."

"There are things you don't understand, Tony. Big things."

"Then explain it to me."

She released a soft sigh. "I was born the way I am. The abilities I have, the things I can do, I was born with them, and it's the only way. It can't be learned or studied, or obtained through science experiments and technological advancements. And despite being born with my abilities, I was always looked down on by the majority of those I went to school with because to them, I was different."

"Your conversation with Fury...?" He left the question open.

"Yes, this is what I was referring to," she answered softly. "You see, despite being the same, each member of the community was sorted into four classifications. Squibs are those that are born from those with abilities but do not possess them themselves. Muggleborns are those that are born with their abilities but whose parents don't possess them."

"You," he surmised.

"Yes. Half-bloods are those that have ancestry on both sides. Harry's a Half-blood, his mother being a Muggleborn like me and his father a Pureblood, and Purebloods are..."

"Those with only ancestry of those born with abilities," Tony finished, nodding in understanding.

"Yes. Ronald and his family are Purebloods. Now, some, but not all, Purebloods believed that anything less was vermin, unworthy of their abilities, of living in general. They believed that Muggleborns stole their power and that was why Squibs were becoming more common."

"And they never once thought inbreeding might be the problem?" He asked sarcastically.

"Sometimes I forget how clever you are," she remarked. She hadn't even mentioned the inter-marrying in order to keep the lines 'pure'. He'd simply figured it out for himself.

"Given the current mood, I'll do my best to not be offended by that," he quipped, pulling a small laugh from her.

"No, they didn't. They were adamant it was our fault. No one knew where our abilities came from, but in the last decade, studies have been done and they started digging deeper into the ancestry of Muggleborns, and you know what they found?"

"I'm assuming the abilities gene in the ancestry but further done the line," he guessed.

"Exactly! So, I did some digging of my own and I discovered that after going back eight generations on my father's side, there was a Squib. And as each generation was birthed, that ancestry carried over, the gene slowly building in strength into it was strong enough to present itself."

"And it did that in you."

"It did," she confirmed. "From what they've discovered, the gene never truly dies out. It simply retreats and rebuilds until it's able to manifest in a new host."

"That makes it sound like a parasite," he joked and she snorted.

"My peers, the majority of them made my life a living Hell at Hogwarts. They bullied me not only on my appearance but my parentage. They believed themselves above me and because I held the top spot in my year for academics for six consecutive years, they hated me more than most Muggleborns. They believed me worthless, an abomination, and yet, I was academically above them. I know some of them were punished by their parents. Do you get it now? My parents were murdered because they didn't have abilities and I do."

"It's not your fault," he reiterated confidently. "The people responsible?"

"Dead," she answered flatly.

"I've noticed you're using past tense terms. So what changed? Did things get better for you?"

"Not yet," she breathed out. "I'm not emotionally ready to speak about it. In my community, it's a given that everyone knows what happened and children are taught it at school. But there are very few people who know the true extent of the things that happened to me, and they are kept that way because of how traumatic and horrific they are."

His hold tightened on her automatically.

"I brought you here because I wanted you to see this part of my life. And because I need support."

"For?"

"For what I'm about to do."

She slipped out from under his arm and rose to her feet, lifting her head high and crossing the street. She opened the metal gate and walked down the pathway, Tony watching as she knocked on the door and a twenty-something brunette opened it shortly after.

He couldn't hear what was being said and he couldn't see their interactions clearly either, but he did see the woman pull Hermione into a hug before she saw her off with a wave.

"What was all that about?" He asked once she'd retaken her seat beside him.

"It's time that I let go. It's been fifteen years, I can't keep holding onto this house."

"You own it?"

"They left me the house, cars and dentist practice. I sold the cars and business, but I couldn't bring myself to the sell the house; it was my childhood home. When I was twenty-one, I decided that I didn't want it sitting empty and I didn't believe myself capable of stepping foot through the door after what'd happened, so I rented it out. Chloe's been living here with her husband and two children for almost eight years. She's been asking for years if I'd consider selling it."

"And you're going to," he said knowingly.

She nodded. "It's not mine anymore, it's theirs now. They've made it a home again. A house filled with laugher and love rather than screams and trauma."

"It worth much?" He asked nosily.

"London is much like New York for property, especially depending on the area. How much do _you_ think?"

"What am I working with?"

"A nice neighbourhood, a school within walking distance, a local supermarket, nearby park, three bedrooms, living room, kitchen and dining room, converted loft space, two baths, an office, a back garden and a garage which is concealed by the bushes."

"Given I'm not all that familiar with the property market for the country, let alone the area, and taking into inflation and drops in the market, I'll estimate between six and six-fifty."

She nodded. "It's been valued at five-fifty to seven hundred thousand, mostly due to the modifications. Given that they've been my tenants for almost eight years, I've agreed to knock off all they've paid me in rent from the original price, and it'll be rent to buy; that way they avoid having to take out a mortgage and potential debt should they no longer be financially stable, and they may take as long as they wish to buy it. My parents would be happy it's a home again."

"I understand this was hard for you to do, so thank you for sharing it with me. What made you do it?"

"I'm not confident you're ready to hear the full truth yet but I felt it was time I told you something, even if I redacted some of the details. You deserved to know a little more about me."

"Trust me, I'm ready."

"Trust me," she repeated. "You're not."

~000~000~000~

"What're we doing here?"

"As we're nearing the end of our day, no tour is complete without a trip on the London Eye."

"So, you'll get on that without issue, but you'll have a fit when you get anywhere near my jet?"

"I'm terrified of flying, not heights," she shrugged, her hands stuffed in her pockets as she led the way towards the large attraction.

"The only guaranteed way of getting on it before it closes for the night is booking in advance, which neither of us did. I don't even think _I_ would be able to get us access. And we sure as Hell won't make it time standing in that big-ass queue," said Tony, gesturing to the long line of tourists up ahead. "So, tell me, Doc, what's your plan?"

"That's a secret," she responded, heading straight past the queue and towards a second, smaller queue. The fast track lane.

There were very few people in front of them and when they reached the attraction worker, he looked to them expectantly, wishing to see their pass. Tony, knowing they didn't have one, eyed Hermione closely as she removed her hand from her pocket and held up a single golden coin, but it was bigger than any coin he'd seen. Unfortunately, he couldn't clearly see the engraved markings but whatever the young man saw had his eyes widening and his mouth parting.

He stuttered twice before managing to get his words out, and minutes later when the next pod arrived and emptied of its occupants, Hermione and Tony were granted unobstructed access.

"What was that? What did you show him?" He asked suspiciously, his eyes darting between the young man and Hermione's pocket where she'd stashed the gold coin.

"Something you're not ready to know about," she responded, moving away from the door and taking a seat on the wooden bench that sat in the centre of the large pod. Tony noticed they were the only two occupants, the young man having no intentions of allowing anyone else access.

He took a seat on the opposite side, his brow furrowed in thought as they waited for the pod to ascend higher so they might see more of the city.

"If I've timed it right, we'll see the sunset," Hermione broke the silence, standing from the bench and moving closer to the window, looking out over the city as they slowly rose higher. "I'm going to share something with you."

"I'm listening."

He stood and moved to stand beside her, his hands in his pockets and his eyes focused forward, noting the darkening sky nearing.

"My mission for Fury."

His head automatically snapped towards her, seeing the corner of her mouth twitch and she kept her gaze resolutely forward.

"You signed an NDA," he pointed out. "I bugged you for weeks to tell me what you were up to and you refused every time."

"Now it's different."

"Why?"

"I trust you," she confessed softly, her head slowly turning until their gazes locked, Hermione witnessing his surprise at her statement. "I trust you with my life, I trust you with my secrets and most importantly, Sally trusts you. And she doesn't like _anyone_. That in itself was a big indicator."

He cleared his throat and readjusted his jacket before folding his arms over his chest and squaring his shoulders. Her mouth twitched in amusement.

"Out with it," he ordered. "What took seven days?"

Her expression dimmed and her eyes fell downcast, something he noticed instantly.

"You know I was an analyst for SHIELD but you don't know _what_ I analysed, and I can't tell you yet either. However, I wasn't just an analyst. When the situation called for it, and on some rare occasions, I was the last option available. When you rooted through SHIELD's systems, did you happen to find a reference to Code Leo?"

Tony's brow furrowed in concentration, his mind shifting through his memories of the day he'd gotten bored and decided to teach Fury a lesson after he'd hired amateurs to provide security for SHIELD's classified materials.

"Once or twice," he nodded slowly. "And whilst it was mentioned in some reports, it was never explained in any detail."

" _I_ am Code Leo."

He blinked slowly. "Okay?" He drew out the word.

"You know both Fury and SHIELD's got their hands in many honey pots, some they'll admit to and others they won't. They've got agents everywhere, staking out and tracking certain individuals and reporting back to the head office so records can be kept up to date. Recently, with the advances in technology and weapons, they've been getting involved with threats to national security, weapons dealers, terrorists and etcetera. I'm not entirely certain on the details, I just know that something went horribly wrong with one of SHIELD's undercover operations, putting more than one hundred lives at risk. They'd gotten everyone out that they could, many had already been captured, tortured and killed but there were fourteen agents unaccounted for as well as two level 7 agents, one of whom, you might have come across in the mainframe."

"Care to spill?"

"Clint Barton, Hawkeye."

"Isn't he a candidate for the Avengers?" His eyebrows lifted.

"He is," Hermione agreed. "A _giant_ pain in the arse, too, always loved to show up at my lab and annoy the Hell out of me until I threatened him with actions far worse than anything I did to you during our prank war, but he's a good man. He's usually more careful but this time he'd gotten in too deep. Again, I don't know what they were doing and I don't care to know, but something went wrong and they were both captured. I don't just have one specific ability; I have many. Too many to name, but my abilities make me the perfect one-woman rescue and extraction team when against those that aren't like me. With Clint and the other agent being the highest level agents unaccounted for, I was to find them and rescue them first. It took me two days to track them to an underground bunker in Oslo. It took me three hours to compile a full list of the enemy's weaknesses after observation, half an hour to do a perimeter search, just under an hour to incapacitate everyone in the bunker, and half an hour to reach both of them and take them to the extraction point. They were both pretty beat up with internal damage, fractured bones and dehydration."

"You went up against _terrorists_?! By _yourself_!" Tony's voice rose in both disbelief and anger. "What the fuck was Fury thinking dragging you into that kind of shit?!" He demanded. He reached into a pocket inside his jacket and removed an earpiece, slipping it on. "Jarvis, call Fury now."

"I don't think so," Hermione sighed, reaching up and snatching the earpiece from his ear and hiding it in her pocket.

"Give it back," Tony scowled, holding his hand out expectantly.

"No. It was my choice to go. I had several opportunities to back out of the mission and I chose not to because there were people that needed my help. I was their last option, the divide between life and death. Once I'd extracted Clint and the other agent, my search turned to the final twelve agents involved. After five days, I was able to extract eight agents alive, and four dead."

He looked horrified. Positively horrified.

"I couldn't leave them there, Tony," she whispered, her gaze lowering to the ground. "They had families; wives, children, people that loved them. If I couldn't get them home alive, the least I could do was return them to their loved ones where they could be properly put to rest. I owed it to them. One of the agents, I hadn't gotten there fast enough and he died in my arms. The last thing he heard was my promise that he'd see his family again. He made me a liar."

She didn't protest when he stepped closer and folded his arms around her, pulling her into his chest as he pressed his chin atop her head. Her eyes closed, a single tear breaking free as it fell from the corner of her eye.

"It wasn't your fault."

"I was his only chance of survival and I failed him," she whispered.

"But you saved _ten_ others. Ten people who were all but dead, who'd likely already accepted their fate and then you show up, a beacon to guide them home, to safety," he argued. "Trust me, Poppins, I know what that feels like," he added in a mutter, something she wasn't certain was actually meant for her or if he'd just been thinking aloud. "I know you, I know you did everything you could to save him, and the last thing he saw wasn't the face of his torturer, it was you. The last thing he experienced wasn't fear or pain, it was hope and kindness. I'm Hella pissed Fury sent you in without backup, that he sent you in at all, but I know you would've done everything humanly possible to get those agents back home, even if it meant risking your own life, which you did."

She sniffled and released a tired sigh, her cheek turning to press against his chest, her blurry eyes locking onto the reds, oranges and pinks that were cast across the sky as nightfall began to bathe London City, the illuminations from Big Ben, the streets and houses offering light in the darkness.

"Tell me something, Roomy?"

"What?" She whispered, unwilling to draw back from him yet and he didn't seem to be in a hurry to release her either.

"Tell me about one of your abilities. You want to ease me into this? Tell me something small."

She took a small moment to ponder whether it was the right thing to do but decided there was no harm in revealing something if she planned on telling him everything in the future.

"The ring I gave you, it prevents others from looking too closely and identifying you, hence why you haven't once been spotted. If one were to look hard enough, or even suspect that it might be you, then the protection it offers would weaken. It's somewhat based on intent, it tricks the brain into believing one thing over another. They might look directly at you but see another person, or, they might not see you at all. They might believe you a figment of their imagination."

"And _how_ does that work? How's that possible without medicinal, alcohol or drug influence?"

"I can't tell you, not yet."

"Soon?"

"Soon," she promised.

~000~000~000~

"I'd kill for a sausage roll," Hermione remarked as they drifted further from the London Eye and the long queue of tourists still waiting for their turn.

"What the Hell's a sausage roll?" Tony's brow furrowed in confusion.

"You've never had a sausage roll? That's criminal. That's unforgivable. That needs rectifying, right now. There's a bakery nearby, they close in fifteen minutes so we best hurry and hope they have something left," she responded, quickening her steps and forcing Tony to do so as well in order to keep up with her.

As they stepped into Greggs, they were in luck and they were able to purchase the remaining five sausage rolls, two steak bakes, three cookies and four yum-yums, exiting the bakery with their goods just before the door was locked for the night.

"You wanna slow down?" Tony lifted both eyebrows in surprised amusement, seeing the way she all but tore the paper bag open in order to reach a sausage roll.

"Shut up," she grumbled. "I haven't had a sausage roll since I moved to the US, leave me be. This is one of the foods I've missed the most. Fish and chips, Sunday dinners, Yorkshire puddings... I can make them myself, but sausage rolls, as far I'm aware, I haven't seen available for purchase and I don't have the talent to make them myself, I've tried before and it was a complete disaster," she defended, taking a hearty bite of the sausage roll and wincing against the hot temperature.

"What is it?" He eyed it curiously, looking as though he wasn't certain if he wished to try it or not.

"Sausage in a buttery, flaky pastry and it will change your life. Try it," she encouraged, taking another bite of her own whilst fishing into the plastic bag and retrieving him one to try.

He took it hesitantly, sniffed at it curiously before slowly taking a bite, also wincing at the hot temperature, but once he'd chewed thoughtfully, he nodded to himself.

"I don't know what I was expecting but it's damn good," he remarked.

"I told you," she grinned smugly. "Fish and chips, sausage rolls, tea... Careful, Tony, you might be converting."

He snorted. "I wouldn't go that far."

"No?" She arched an eyebrow. "You ever tried a Jaffa cake?"

"Never heard of it."

She smiled slowly. "Dark chocolate and orange jelly on a cake-like base."

"Sounds disgusting."

"You like _all_ of those things," she said knowingly. "You wanted to experience things through my perspective, and today, that's exactly what we've done. But it is getting late and we best check on Sally."

"I left the door to the rooftop open," Tony told her, "But part of me hopes she did her business inside."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "She wouldn't do that, Sally's well trained."

Before they headed back to the car and returned to the hotel for the evening, they made a short pit-stop to a corner off-license shop, purchasing a number of typically British snacks and confectionary Tony had never heard of before, including Jaffa cakes.

When they returned to the hotel without attracting the attention of the press, they handed the car keys to a member of staff and headed for the foyer, their arms laden with bags containing food, drink, snacks and books Tony had purchased during their time wandering Hermione's favourite book shops.

"The ring, give it to me."

"Why?"

"Because I said so," she held her hand out expectantly.

"Can't I keep it?" He pouted.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I know you. The moment you're able to you'll have it in your lab, dissecting it and running every test known to mankind in an attempt to discover how it works," she said knowingly. He didn't look impressed, knowing that she knew him so well. "And not only that, it won't last, the protection's due to run out in ten minutes."

"Fine," he grumbled, taking the ring from his finger and setting it in her palm. She slipped it into her pocket and they continued their way towards the foyer.

As they approached the private lift connected to the Royal Penthouse suite, they were intercepted by the night manager.

"Mr. Stark, Miss. Granger," she greeted.

" _Doctor_ Granger," Tony corrected instantly.

"My apologies," she tipped her head in Hermione's direction, folding her hands together to keep from fidgeting. "I trust you enjoyed your day in the city."

"Poppins gave me the inside scoop, the best tour guide anyone could ask for," he replied.

"Excellent. As an apology for the little misunderstanding yesterday evening, I have arranged for a private dining experience in our prestigious Northall Restaurant, and evening drinks in our adjoining bar, free of charge."

Tony arched an eyebrow. "How generous," he remarked coolly, and as Hermione saw the raven-haired woman's shoulders release some tension, it didn't last with Tony's next words. "But it was more than a 'little misunderstanding,' was it not? Unfortunately, I cannot be bought and neither can Dr. Granger, and dinner this evening has already been taken care of." Tony raised one of his hands to show the number of plastic bags in his hold as evidence. "What I would like to know is what course of action has been taken."

"Lindsey, the young woman that was managing the checking-in station," she clarified, "Has been suspended until further notice whilst an investigation is underway regarding her conduct."

"Good," was all Tony said before he stepped around the woman and continued towards the lift.

"Mr. Stark?" She questioned and Tony paused, twisting to look over his shoulder. "I have received reports from the cleaning staff assigned to the Royal Penthouse, claiming to have seen a white feline napping before the fireplace in the lounge, in both bedrooms and walking along the kitchen countertops."

"And?" He responded simply, giving the woman a look of challenge.

"I just wished to know if said feline poses a threat to the other guests," she said, her gaze lowering to the ground for a moment.

Hermione blinked in surprise and Tony's mouth twitched knowingly. "Not unless they insult her. She's remarkably clever, takes after her owner," was all he said, stepping into the lift without further delay.

"That didn't go as I expected it to," Hermione admitted.

Tony snorted. "As I said, they're trying to get on my good side, and if that means overlooking the no-pet policy I blatantly disregarded, then so be it."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Did you say something to Sally?" She questioned suspiciously. "You know she avoids people, she'd never willingly come out into the open if there were cleaners traipsing through the suite all morning. Not unless someone _told_ her to."

Tony's mouth pulled into a smirk. "I might've had a word with her," he confessed. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "It serves them right," he shrugged, stepping out of the lift and heading for the lounge. "By the way, I've been meaning to ask. What's the deal with Sally?"

"What d'you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean." He set the bags on the table and removed his jacket, hooking it over the back of one of the chairs. "You must think me an idiot if you think I haven't noticed she's a strange one."

"Okay?" She drew the word out slowly.

"Come off it, Doc," he scoffed. "I know there's something not quite right about her... Speak of the devil," he muttered when Sally appeared with a meow of greeting, jumping up onto the table and butting her head against Hermione's stomach and then moving towards Tony. He reached and lifted her up, holding her before his face. " _What_ are you?" He asked her, their gazes locked, blue to brown. "I don't believe for a second you're a normal cat."

Sally meowed in response, Tony being unsure if that was confirmation or indignation and she wished him to set her back on her feet, so he did so, being unsurprised when she went rooting through the bags, sniggering when she tried to run off with one of Hermione's sausage rolls before she put a stop to it.

"What makes you think she's not normal?" Hermione deflected, holding the bag containing the baked goods out of Sally's reach.

"You really want me to answer that? Very well... How the fuck does she use the elevator in Stark Tower with the numerous security measures in place? How the fuck does she get into locked rooms? How the fuck does she understand _everything_ we say to her? And how the fuck does she follow instructions better than the majority of the human population? I swear, I've seen her wink before, too! That's not normal. And birds! She doesn't give a shit about birds! What cat doesn't give a shit about birds?!"

Hermione bit her lip to keep from laughing as during his speech, he'd slowly grown more agitated to the point he was gesturing wildly with his hands and he'd almost smacked himself in the face, sending a glare to his hand as if it was its fault and not his own.

"I don't know what to tell you, Tony, she's intelligent."

"There's more to it than that," he disagreed. "I _know_ there is. What? Have you experimented on her? Has she been genetically altered, is that it?"

"No, and I would never harm another living being in such a way," she scowled, somewhat offended by his words even though a part of her knew that Tony had no idea about her house-elf crusade back in her youth.

He held his hands up in surrender. "I _know_ there's something different about her, so why won't you admit it? Does it have something to do with your abilities? Your community?"

She pursed her lips and folded her arms, refusing to answer.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said smugly.

"Take it how you wish, I'm going to get changed," she told him, leaving him at the table and taking the baked goods with her to prevent Sally from stealing them or Tony from giving in and willingly giving them to her.

~000~000~000~

"Hurry up, Poppins!" Tony called from the lounge, the coffee table stocked with all of the snacks and confectionery they'd bought, ready to be taste-tested, along with a bottle of wine and two wine glasses.

The lights had been dimmed, the fireplace lit, the TV was paused and Sally was curled up by the heat of the flames. Tony had already changed into pyjama pants and a shirt, set up their planned evening and was waiting for Hermione who was taking far too long in his opinion.

"Okay, I'm ready... Just... Just don't laugh at me," Hermione called back, sounding hesitant.

Feeling both of his eyebrows lift at her words, he turned his eyes towards the doorway, physically choking on his breath, his eyes widening and his mouth parting when Hermione slowly stepped into view, her hands clasped together, her eyes lowered and her teeth nibbling at her lower lip.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, his eyes slowly cataloguing her from head to toe. Her clothing left little the imagination and he certainly hadn't been expecting it.

She wore a black silk negligee with lace trimming, thin straps hooked over her shoulders and the hemline falling just barely above mid-thigh, showing her pale skin. She wore a silk robe over the top, the sleeves falling down to her wrists and the hem a little below the negligee. Her feet were bare, her wild curls flowing down her back and spilling over her shoulders and her cheeks tinted pink with her discomfort.

"Tony?"

"I'm definitely not laughing," he spoke in little above a mutter.

"You're staring."

"I'm not," he denied.

"You definitely are," she argued, folding her arms over her chest. It did nothing to deter his stare, if anything, it made it worse when the movement brought notice to her breasts. "Tony!" She snapped.

"What?" He blinked innocently.

"You're staring," she glared at him.

"It's not my fault!" He protested. "When you walk out looking like that, you can't expect me _not_ to look."

"You weren't looking, you were _staring_ ," she corrected. "And it's not my fault, either. I didn't dress this way for your benefit. I wasn't joking this morning when I said the personal shopper bought me nothing but lingerie, both for underwear and pyjamas."

"I'm not complaining," he grumbled, his eyes doing another sweep, catching sight of a scar peeking out from the valley of her breasts. He hadn't noticed the first time. Neither had he noticed what looked to be a burn scar in-between her right clavicle and shoulder. From the little he could see, he'd estimate them to be over a decade in age. But how had she gotten them?

"There's another twelve of these things in the bloody bags," she grumbled.

"Fashion show?" He cheeked.

"No," she said flatly. "And if you don't stop staring, I'm going to barricade myself in my room and you can have movie night by yourself," she warned.

Giving his head both a mental and physical shake, he tore his eyes from her body and her face, seeing the heat blooming in her cheeks and her clearly unimpressed expression.

"I'm not apologising."

"I wasn't expecting you to," she shrugged a single shoulder, hesitantly crossing over to the couch and taking a seat beside him, getting herself comfortable by pulling her legs beneath her and setting a cushion on her lap. "What've you chosen?"

" _Paranormal Activity 4_ ," he responded.

The movie wasn't due to be released in the UK for several weeks but she knew from experience that Tony could get his hands on anything, and it wasn't the first time they'd seen a movie that hadn't yet been released from the comfort of their home. Tony was one of the best, if not _the_ best, hacker in the world, and that was without Jarvis' help. He simply hacked the production company or cinema showing the movie, did some impressive tech-thingy that bounced the signal off a satellite and straight to the Tower. Presumably what he'd done that night.

"That's a horror, isn't it? You know I hate horror movies," she all but pouted.

His mouth twitched. "I know. This is rated 15, ya big baby."

He wouldn't admit it out loud but it found it both hilarious and adorable when she'd squeak, jump, startle, gasp and hide behind a cushion or blanket.

"I haven't even seen the first three," she pointed out.

"Doesn't matter," he shrugged. "Grab ya wine and settle in."

"If I have nightmares, I'm going to make your life Hell," she warned, reaching for her wine glass, settling back into the couch and lifting the cushion in preparation to hide behind it.

~000~000~000~

"I hate this!" Hermione squeaked, a cushion partially covering her face as she peered over the top. "We're barely halfway through and I've lost count of how many jump scares there's been! Not only did I nearly spill my wine _twice_ , but I almost peed myself."

"Very attractive, Poppins," Tony teased. "Just what a guy wants to hear. You sure know how to sweet talk a genius."

"Shut up," she whisper-hissed, distractedly slapping his arm. "And I swear, if you eat any more Jaffa cakes and don't leave me any, I'm going to turn Jarvis against you."

"That's impossible."

"It's not; we both know he likes me more than you."

"It's not my fault they're so good!" He protested. "Remind me to buy a crate of them to take back to New York with us. Those Monster Munch things, too."

"For God's Sake!" Hermione cursed when another jump scared occurred, visibly startling. Tony sniggered at her. He hadn't even flinched. When he reached for the half-empty packet of Jaffa cakes and pulled one free, she swiped it from his hand midway to his mouth.

"Hey!"

"You've eaten the majority of them, I haven't had one yet," she argued. "You've got to share. To think, you wouldn't even know they existed if I hadn't told you and forced you to try one."

He sulked and produced another from the packet, eating it more aggressively than was appropriate.

Sometime later, Hermione had to use the bathroom and when she returned, Tony was scanning the contents of the coffee table in search of his next treat with the TV paused.

"You didn't have to pause it," she told him. "I would've preferred if you hadn't."

"Chicken," he jibed. She stuck her tongue out childishly and retook her seat.

"Any plans for tomorrow?" She asked conversationally, reaching for her refilled wine glass and sipping the dark red liquid. "It's our last full day before we head back to New York."

"I know exactly what I'm going to do," he replied, his mouth twitching in a way as though he knew something she didn't. "You?"

"Haven't decided yet," she shrugged. "I know I have to see Harry, or at the very least, I can't leave without saying goodbye to my Godchildren. I'll see about contacting Ginny and having her bring them and my things to a meeting place. Or possibly George, he's probably the best option. In fact, I might just have him mail them to me. It's not as if there's anything in particular that I need. And there's something I want to do on Monday before we leave."

"And that is?"

"None of your business."

"Charming," he scoffed.

"I've been living with you too long; I'm picking up your bad habits."

~000~000~000~

"Jarvis?"

"The results have not changed, Mr. Stark," the A.I replied.

"But that's impossible. They can't not exist!" Tony exclaimed quietly as he sat at the table with his tablet propped up. His eyes strayed towards the couch where Hermione lay on her side, a cushion beneath her head and a blanket covering her (which he'd placed over her out of worry of her being cold) as she slept.

They'd made it through the movie before Hermione chose a comedy to balance out her chance of having nightmares. The third movie they'd settled on one from the action genre and she'd fallen asleep halfway through, being snuggled into his side. It was that moment when Tony thought it time to check in with Jarvis as he hadn't done so all day, and after reluctantly shifting out from under Hermione and making sure she was comfortable, he'd crossed to the table and retrieved his earpiece from Hermione's coat pocket.

"I have conducted the search a total of eight times."

"I don't believe it," he said to himself, his eyes locked on the screen before him. A completely blank screen. Ronald Weasley didn't exist. "Alright," he sighed, "Bring up the results for Potter."

His eyes slowly took in the information before him.

"Harry James Potter. Born July 31st, 1980. Parents unknown. Guardians, Vernon Dursley and Petunia Dursley née Evans of 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Attended St. Grogory's Primary School aged 3-10. Registered to attend Stonewell Secondary Comprehensive School at age 11, expected start date September 2nd, 1991... But never showed up. He disappeared off the face of the planet... Jarvis? Are there any missing person's reports for Potter?"

"No, Sir."

"The woman, Petunia Dursley. Her maiden name's Evans. Does she have any relatives?"

"Yes, Sir. Records show her father, Jack, died of a heart attack in 1978, and her mother Violet, passed in her sleep after a battle with lung cancer in 1980. There is also a younger sister, Lily Evans."

"Potter's mother, I wonder?" He mused to himself. "What've we got on her?"

Tony's eyes searched the screen once more when a second file appeared.

"Lily Jasmine Evans, born January 30th, 1960 in Cokeworth, Midlands, England. Attended St. Margaret's Primary School aged 5-10. Was registered to attend St. Mary's Secondary Education, was expected to start September 5th, but never showed... How about that?" He mused, leaning back into his chair and folding his arms over his chest, his mind working to slot the pieces together.

"They both disappeared at the same time, at the same age. Poppins said her special boarding accepts children at eleven and they graduate at eighteen, which accounts for the missing schooling. Dursley wouldn't be given custody unless she was a blood relative and if she had a younger sister, it's only logical that she had a kid, Potter being the father's name. Now, Potter's got abilities like Poppins and they can only be born with them, and since his mother also disappeared, it's credible that she had them, too. Muggleborn," he said to himself knowingly, as Hermione had told him so just that day, "And Potter's a Half-blood, a mixture of both ancestries, which means his father also has abilities. Jarvis, search for males with the last name Potter, disappearing around the age of eleven in the UK," Tony ordered.

"Right away, Sir," the A.I agreed.

"Weasley's a Pureblood," Tony continued his musings, "But we found nothing on him. Private education, maybe? And what's Potter doing in the custody of his Aunt? Jarvis, search for any deaths for both Evans and Potter."

"Yes, Sir. I have conducted the search regarding the name Potter."

"And?"

"137 findings within the United Kingdom."

"Any disappearances?"

"No, Sir, not at the age of eleven."

"Damn," he muttered, brushing a hand through his hair.

"Sir, I have also found negative results for death certificates."

"Tricky, tricky. Well, I like a challenge." Sitting straight, he cracked his knuckles (something Hermione was always on his case about stopping the 'disgusting' habit) and began typing away at the screen, determined to find something, anything.

He didn't. He found nothing more than what he already had.

Slumping back into his chair in annoyance, his eyes darted over to Hermione.

"Jarvis? Search all records for men and women with the last name Granger, filter the search for those with training or licenses within dentistry."

"Yes, Sir... I have found 32 results."

"And narrow that down to Richmond, London," he instructed.

"2, Sir. A Richard David Granger and a Jean Helen Granger née Taylor."

"Background?"

"On your screen, Sir."

"Richard Granger, born February 18th, 1945. Served in British Armed Forced, aged 16-21, retired due to injury. Licensed dentist by 27. Jean Granger, born April 7th 1955, a dental nurse by 20, later retrained for dental license at age 32. Met and married Richard in August 1975. Gave birth to a daughter, Hermione E.J. Granger, September 19th 1979. Granger's Dental Surgery opened January 1976. Deaths occurred July 23rd, 1997." Tony's eyes darted over to Hermione once more, finding her still peacefully sleeping. "Jarvis? Find out what you can about their deaths. Hack any database necessary, I don't care."

"Yes, Sir."

Tony set his elbows on the table and propped his chin atop his clasped hands, his eyes darting between his tablet and Hermione.

"Done, Sir."

Tony focused his attention forward, his brow furrowing as he read the crime report, only, most of it was blacked out. Only words such as "home invasion," "suffering," and "dead on arrival" remained.

"Jarvis?"

"That is it all, Mr. Stark," the A.I replied knowingly. "The record was sealed. I have found nothing else with a possible connection to the file."

"No case number, responding officers, suspects, time or cause of death... This is looking like a cover-up job," he frowned, his eyes once more darting over to Hermione. "She said it was her fault because she was born, she's mentioned how secretive they are of their community, and if they were killed by someone like her, it's logical her community covered it up to prevent potential fallout or exposure," he said aloud. "And if they attend school in their own community, then perhaps they never leave once they graduate. That's why there's no record for Weasley or Potter's father. They're both Purebloods. They were _born_ in their community. I'm a genius!" He said smugly but his joy was short-lived. "And I'm still no closer to finding the bastards," he groaned, his head dropping into his hands.

As he thought back on his day with Hermione, trying to remember any small details he may have missed during their conversations, he was reminded of the incident at the London Eye.

Lifting his head, he stole a glance at Hermione before reaching over to the coat hung over the back of the chair, his hand digging into the pocket, a little surprised when he felt the cool metal of a larger than usual coin. Drawing back, he squinted his eyes and brought it closer to eye level, scanning the gold coin. Upon closer inspection, it reminded him of a challenge coin issued in the US. He'd seen one similar as Rhodey had one from his time serving.

The side he was currently looking at oddly had an 'M' embossed in the centre, a strange-looking stick sitting slap-bang in the centre, strange lines coming off it as though it were glowing like sunshine in a child's drawing. Flipping it over, he recognised both the embossed British flag and the Queen's head. Around the edge of the coin was 'VC,1997', 'Hermione E.J. Granger'.

 _Weird_ , he thought.

"Jarvis, I'mma snap a photo of this coin, I want you to find out what you can," Tony instructed, reaching for his phone and snapping a photo of both sides.

"Sir, I have found no matches."

"Thought so," he sighed, unsurprised. "Search the initials 'VC'."

"Several results. Venture Capital. BCVA. Victoria Cross. CV."

"Hold on," Tony interrupted, "What was that last one?"

"Victoria Cross, Sir."

"And what is that?"

"Taken from the official UK Government website, 'The Victoria Cross is the premier Operational Gallantry award given for 'most conspicuous bravery, or some daring or pre-eminent act of valour or self-sacrifice, or extreme devotion to duty in the presence of the enemy.'"

Tony blinked slowly, his eyes darting to Hermione's sleeping form.

"A military medal?" He clarified.

"Yes, Sir."

His eyes moved to the coin in his hand and back to Hermione.

"Jarvis, search Hermione's name through the Royal database."

"That is considered an act of terrorism, Sir."

"Just do it," he snapped irritably.

Silence fell with Tony unable to take his eyes away from Hermione.

"Sir, during my search, I found mention of both Hermione Granger and Harry Potter," said Jarvis. Tony sat tall in his chair. "The Victoria Cross was awarded to both on July 1st,1998."

"Does it specifically state the reasoning?"

"No, Sir, it does not."

"But why would she have been awarded a military order with no military experience?"

He could feel a headache approaching.

When Hermione shifted in her sleep, it drew his attention, him immediately noting that her peaceful expression had been replaced by a frown. She shifted once more, slowly growing more restless.

Slipping the coin back into the pocket of her coat, he stood from the table and quietly walked towards her, crouching down by the couch, his hearing picking up on muttered words.

"No, don't... It hurts, stop. Please, stop."

His brow furrowed. Was this a nightmare due to the movie, or... Something else? His eyes darted to his tablet briefly. Had she seen combat before? Was this the trauma she'd spoken of?

"It's not real, it's a fake," she groaned in her sleep, her mutterings growing louder. "We didn't steal it. We didn't! No... Stop, please... I can't..."

Lifting his hand, he brushed her hair back from her face, his fingers skimming her crinkled forehead and then her cheek. She settled for a moment and shifted closer to his touch.

"Please, stop. It hurts!" She cried, a tear leaking from beneath her closed eyelid and swimming down her cheek.

He wiped it away with his calloused thumb, his eyes locked on her pained, frightened expression, it lessening with skin contact.

"I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you," he muttered in a promise.

Hearing a sleepy meow, he peered over his shoulder to see Sally waking from her sleep and stretching out her body before she approached, leaping onto the couch, butting her head against his chin in greeting and then moving to snuggle against Hermione. She calmed almost instantly when Sally licked her cheek.

"Either of you," he reiterated, his eyes darting between Hermione and Sally.

The white fluff-ball gave a meow in response, as if knowing he was telling the truth.

And he was. He wasn't going to let anyone near her. She was his best friend. One of his most trusted companions, perhaps more so than Happy, Rhodey and Jarvis. She was... Well... _His_.

And Hell would freeze over before he ever let anyone harm her. Potter and Weasley included.

She was his to protect. Something he'd only just realised.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 30

Stepping into the lounge early the next morning, Hermione hadn't expected to find herself alone.

The dining table was empty, there was no sign of Tony and the kitchen counter had been taken over by breakfast items. Her brow furrowing and her lips pursed, she crossed over to the kitchen, fixed herself a cup of tea and selected some toast and fruit before crossing to the table and taking a seat, silently making a start on breakfast.

It was odd to her, being alone at breakfast with no one to talk to. Even before she'd moved in with Tony, they more often than not ate breakfast together. She'd grown to enjoy the company.

She eyed the empty chair opposite her thoughtfully, wondering if Tony had eaten before he'd taken his leave. Given the temperature of her tea, she knew it hadn't been that long since room service had arrived; perhaps she'd just missed him.

As she finished her breakfast and decided a second cup of tea was in order, Sally made an appearance and after greeting her and summoning the cat food that had been purchased the day before to tie them over for the rest of the trip, she fed her familiar and journeyed through the suite to the rooftop.

It was her first time seeing it and it was truly beautiful, if not quite cold and she was only glad she'd slipped on the flurry robe she'd found in her bathroom, the silk one she'd been wearing the previous evening would've offered little protection.

Taking a seat at the table, her eyes took in the peacefulness of London City in the early morning, most slowly waking for the day and preparing for their responsibilities. It was still dark outside, the sky above grey and miserable, the wind biting and harsh, the air chilling against her exposed skin.

After finishing her tea and no longer being able to withstand the cold temperature with only a bathrobe and negligee for protection, she returned inside to the warmth, passing Sally in the process as she headed outside.

Stepping into the kitchen, she tipped her head at the sight of the food being gone. Someone must've been by to clean up, and she'd been on the rooftop longer than she realised.

Having nothing better to do with her day and not liking the look of the dreary sky, she decided to do a little exploring of the Penthouse suite, having yet to see all it had to offer due to its sheer size. The suite consisted of two floors, three if the rooftop was included, and even if they had less than two days remaining of their visit to London, Hermione was tired of getting lost.

As she set to slowly wandering the suite, she discovered a number of rooms she hadn't known where included; a security office, a TV lounge, a terrace connected to the master bedroom and the most surprising of all, a butler's quarters fitted with bathroom _and_ kitchen. It seemed the room came equipped with a personal butler but Tony had declined the service. And she wondered if Happy used the security office and slept elsewhere, or if he had his own security surveillance setup, that with Tony's resources, was most likely more advanced and required less manual interference.

As she made to continue her exploration, believing to have missed one or two rooms, she heard the phone ringing, echoing through the suite. Cursing, she rushed down the stairs and to the phone that sat on a small table by the lift, barely catching it before it rang off.

The red flashing light on the screen let her know it was the front desk calling.

"Hello?" She answered.

"Dr. Granger," greeted what sounded like a young man, his tone professional and calm.

"Yes, this is she," she confirmed.

"Sarah and Nicola have arrived, might I send them up to the Penthouse?"

Her brow furrowing in confusion, Hermione said, "Yes, of course."

"Excellent, they will be with you momentarily."

"Thank you," she responded before ending the call.

Folding her arms, she did her best to wonder who the two women were and why they might need access to the Penthouse but the only explanation she could provide was that they were possibly the cleaners and knowing the Penthouse wasn't empty, wished to have permission before entering. But then, whoever had cleaned the kitchen hadn't asked for permission. Unless they'd called ahead and she hadn't heard due to being on the rooftop and they'd assumed the suite was empty.

Giving her head a shake, she considered making a quick trip to her room to throw on some clothes so she might be more presentable, but as the thought crossed her mind, the lift dinged open and two women stepped out.

They were both young, mid-twenties, she'd assume and they sported black tunics with gold lining and buttons and the hotel logo, black trousers that fitted closely around the ankles and black flats. One was a platinum-blonde with a tanned complexion, bright blue eyes, pink plump lips and a smattering of freckles across her high cheekbones. The other was more of an ash-blonde, her nose small, her mouth a dark pink with the bottom lip a little fuller than the top and her dark green eyes framed by mascara-coated lashes.

Whoever they were, Hermione didn't believe they were cleaners. Wrong uniform.

"Good morning, Dr. Granger," they chorused, their hands clasped before them.

"Good morning," she returned, her eyes noting the platinum-blonde's name tag read 'Nicola' and the ash-blonde's 'Sarah'.

"Are you ready to begin?" Asked Nicola, the taller of the two women.

"I'm sorry," Hermione began, pulling her robe a little tighter around herself. "Begin? I must confess, I'm not entirely sure what your purpose is, or why you are here?"

"Mr. Stark has arranged for you to experience our renowned spa treatments," answered the other blonde. Hermione blinked in surprise at the news, obviously having no idea that he'd done so. That's probably why he'd snuck out when she was asleep, she realised. "Our services are included in the Penthouse package, and Mr. Stark wished to surprise you with a day of relaxation and tranquillity."

"It's definitely a surprise," Hermione confirmed. "I had no idea."

"Mr. Stark left this for you at the front desk."

The young woman slipped her hand into a well-concealed pocket on her tunic before drawing back with a slip of paper, holding it out to her. Taking it, Hermione flipped it open, recognising Tony's mismatched choice of capital and lowercase lettering.

_Poppins,_

_I know you don't understand the meaning of the word 'relaxation' so I brought in professionals to help._

_You've had a shitty week, (but I've been a fabulous host) you work hard and you deserve a break. Enjoy yourself, do nothing, bask in the attention and relax._

_I'll see you this evening._

"That man's incorrigible," she sighed. "Well, it seems my plans for the day have been made for me," she said to herself, returning her gaze to the two women. "Did you say _day_? As in _all_ day?"

"Yes, Dr. Granger," nodded the green-eyed woman. "We offer a wide range of services and treatments and Mr. Stark has insisted that you experience them all."

"Of course he did," she rolled her eyes fondly, completely unsurprised. "Well, I confess I have never before visited or experienced spa treatments. I've always been too busy with my demanding work-life, I barely have time to think let alone relax."

"Not to worry. Dr. Granger. Today, it is our responsibility to take care of you and our goal is to ensure you achieve complete relaxation and tranquillity."

"Might we begin?" Asked the second woman.

"I'm not really presentable to be traipsing through the hotel, might I have a moment to change?"

"There is no need, Dr. Granger, the Penthouse package is not only equipped with access to the spa treatments, but there is a personal spa room in the suite, so we might come to you and you can relax in the privacy of your own suite."

Hermione blinked in surprise at that. Yes, she'd definitely missed a room or two when she'd been exploring. It wasn't her fault the Penthouse was so bloody big!

"If you would please follow us, we will show you to the room and we can begin."

~000~000~000~

She'd fallen asleep. She was so relaxed and her mind untroubled that she'd drifted to sleep without being exhausted, without being tipsy and without a fight.

It had taken her almost an hour to feel comfortable enough to let down her guard and relax once they'd reached the private spa room, and the two young women had been remarkably patient without her, seeming unphased or unsurprised by her unwillingness to switch off her mind and do nothing.

But once she did, she'd never felt better.

She'd undergone more treatments than she thought possible, most of them she'd never heard of, and whilst Nicola set to providing her first-ever deep tissue massage, Sarah had proceeded to give her a manicure. As years of knots, tension and aches were finally banished under the skilful hands of the young blonde, admittedly, Hermione had struggled to contain one or two appreciative but embarrassing moans, something neither of the women seemed to notice. Thankfully.

When lunch arrived, Hermione eyed the offerings of finger sandwiches, cheese, fruit and champagne curiously. She hadn't ordered it so it was either included within the spa package or Tony had pre-ordered for her, in which case, why had he ordered foods that were light on the stomach and guaranteed that hunger wouldn't be kept at bay for long?

She'd had only one glass of champagne and declined any more, not one to drink so early in the day and she'd only done so for a little liquid courage to agree to the leg waxing, not that there was much to remove. She never waxed. More often than not she'd shave unless she was in one of those moods where couldn't be bothered and resorted to a charm. It was the easier option but being Muggleborn, she often liked to do things she might once have without the aid of magic.

It hadn't hurt as much as she thought but she quickly decided she never wished to experience it again. Once was enough.

As the afternoon drew on, she'd been pampered and massaged and moisturised, and it was during one of the facial treatments in which she'd fallen asleep for the second time.

The two women for the most part worked calmly and efficiently whilst engaging her in conversation. They'd tried several times to subtly get information out of Hermione about Tony and her relationship with him and despite her relaxed, sleepy state, she'd still been sharp enough to avoid those questions and hints and they soon gave up asking or trying.

As the spa treatment concluded with a pedicure, the two women cleaned away their equipment and what not and Hermione escorted them to the lift, thanking them for their services and providing a well-deserved tip. She hated having to borrow money from Tony until she was able to retrieve her belongings from Grimmauld, and she hadn't had the chance to visit Gringotts London yet to withdraw funds. Tony, being the good friend he was, had offered to loan her some for the time being and Hermione had every intention of paying him back with interest whether he liked it or not.

Perhaps she'd get dressed and visit that afternoon before he returned.

Seeing off the two women, Hermione filled a plate with cat food for Sally and left it on the floor for her to eat whenever she wished. As she made to leave for her room, she paused when the phone rang.

"Dr. Granger," greeted a different voice from the one that morning. This one was female.

"Yes?" She responded.

"Penelope and Emily are ready. Might I send them up?"

Her brow furrowing, Hermione agreed before ending the call, wondering if these two women were to be the cleaners. She hadn't yet been changed, still clothed in her robe and negligee despite the late afternoon that was drawing closer to early evening.

The two women stepped out of the lift moments later, one petite and the other slightly larger, both with height and curves. The smaller of the two was a redhead, her hair tied back from her face with a low ponytail, a fringe almost falling into her hazel-coloured eyes. The larger woman was a brunette, her hair done up in a tidy bun. Her eyes were bright, a combination of blue and green, her nose slightly pointed and a cleft in her chin. The brunette appeared to be wearing makeup, whilst the redhead had opted for only a dash of mascara to lengthen and darken her lashes.

They both wore uniforms identical to the two women that had just taken their leave. The redhead's name tag read 'Penelope' and the brunette's 'Emily.' These weren't cleaners either. They both carried large silver cases with them, fitted with wheels and a pull-handle.

"Dr. Granger," they both greeted brightly.

"Hello," she responded. "I hope you don't mind my asking and please forgive me if this seems rude, but, who are you?"

They smiled at her.

"I am Penelope," introduced the redhead. "A beautician, more specifically, a makeup artist."

"And I am Emily, also a beautician, but most specifically hair care," added the brunette.

Hermione blinked slowly in surprise.

"And is this included in the package?" She asked, feeling her suspicions growing.

"No, Dr. Granger," confirmed the brunette. "Mr. Stark has asked that we assist you in preparing for this evening."

"This evening?" She echoed, her eyebrow arching.

Tony was up to something.

The spa treatment? Fine, it was a nice gesture that was a benefit of staying in the Penthouse. Lunch? Why was it so small and unfilling, designed to tie one over for a short while but avoid a full, heavy stomach? And now a makeup artist and hairdresser that _wasn't_ included?

"That is all we know," replied the redhead.

"Might we begin? We do not have much time," said the brunette.

"Of course," Hermione nodded slowly. "Anywhere in particular?"

"Wherever you may feel most comfortable."

Nodding once more, Hermione led the way to her room, the two women following behind her and exchanging a glance once they stepped into the room, noticing a sleeping Sally curled up on her bed.

At their entrance, she woke, releasing a yowling yawn before rising to her feet and stretching out her body. She moved to greet Hermione and after a scratch behind the ears, she glanced to the two women before taking her leave, darting out of the room and away from the unknown and untrusted visitors.

Hermione took a seat at the vanity table and the two women quickly set to work, opening their cases and withdrawing the items they needed, the makeup artist standing before her and the hairdresser behind her, preventing interference.

She had no need to shower, having already done so early in the day after undergoing a treatment in which the two blondes had painted mud onto the entirety of her body, and it later needed to be washed off. Thankfully, as she didn't wish to wash off the nice smelling moisturiser that had been applied, and she'd already undergone a leg and underarm wax, as well as a manicure and pedicure.

She should've seen this coming.

The two women worked efficiently, the makeup artist asking for her opinion and colour choices regarding eye makeup and the hairdresser regarding how she wished to have her hair. The former she'd decided on natural, neutral colours and the latter, she'd given full control, knowing from experience the poor woman had her work cut out for her and she'd had more chance of styling it than Hermione ever would.

Midway through, she'd heard the phone ringing and there was only three that she knew of in the Penthouse; one by the lift, one in the security office and the other in the master bedroom. That being the closest, she'd excused herself and quickly headed across the landing and to Tony's room.

"Dr. Granger, your package has arrived. Might I have it sent up?" Said the woman from before.

Hermione's lips pursed, already having a feeling that she knew what she'd find once she opened it.

"Please," she responded. "If you would have them bring it up to the second bedroom, I'd appreciate it."

"Right away, Dr. Granger," the woman agreed.

Ending the call, she returned to the two women, both continuing where they'd left off before she'd excused herself. Soon after, a knock sounded on the door and a young man, no older than twenty-five stepped inside, his grey eyes instinctively searching the room before they were drawn to her, and his blonde hair reflecting in the lights above.

"Dr. Granger," he greeted.

It seemed word had gotten around that Tony was quick to correct those that referred to her using the wrong title. Hermione didn't mind so much, in general. It was when people were rude that she made it a point to correct them.

"You may enter."

Stepping further into the room, Hermione noted the young man carrying four boxes stacked atop one another. There were two approximately the same size same, a large rectangular shape and both fitted with a red ribbon tied around the white box. The third was much smaller, looking mostly like a shoebox and the final box sat on top, square in shape and black velvet.

"Where would you like these?"

"On the bed, please."

"I have been asked to inform you that your car will be waiting by parking bay 8 at five-forty-five."

Car?

After thanking him and taking a moment to give a tip, the two women worked to put the finishing touches on her appearance, and despite the women being perfectly pleasant, she was happy when they took their leave.

Standing and crossing over to the bed, she hesitated before reaching for the two larger boxes, removing their lids and pulling each item free. The first was a black peacoat with large black buttons and it looked to fall to mid-shin. The second item was a black gown. A _couture_ gown. She didn't recognise either of the brands, no doubt being too expensive and luxurious for her to ever be able to afford. Well, she _could_ afford it, she just chose not to.

Putting the gown aside, the third box revealed a pair of sophisticated, pointed-toe black heels, the red soles being a huge indicator of the designer. And if that wasn't enough, the velvet box revealed a matching set of teardrop diamond earrings, a teardrop diamond necklace and a tennis bracelet.

Hermione sunk down onto the soft mattress, staring down at the velvet box held in her hands.

It must've been worth thousands. _Tens of thousands_ , if the shoes, gown and coat were included, not to mention, the silver clutch purse that had also come with the gown.

What was he thinking?!

Hermione determined he obviously wasn't.

But why was he doing this? For all intents and purposes, he was spoiling her. A spa day, manicure and pedicure, hair and makeup, expensive shoes, diamond jewellery _and_ a couture gown.

Part of her didn't want to accept it, she felt uncomfortable in doing so, but she also knew that Tony had a plan; that he'd gone to an awful lot of trouble to arrange her day and acquire the things he had.

Part of her wanted to know and the other wanted to run and hide.

She made to swipe her hand through her hair before pausing, not wishing to mess it up and undo anything the hairdresser had worked hard to do, and she released a sigh, putting the velvet box aside before burying her face in her hands, her shoulders slumping.

After taking a moment to gather the facts, she came to a decision. Despite the uncertainty, Hermione decided to appease Tony. He had something planned and she wished to know what that was.

Her decision made, she rose to her feet, shrugged out of her robe and readied for the evening, being sure to be quick as possible as time was short. Once done, she stood before the mirror in the walk-in wardrobe, her eyes wide and her jaw all but hitting the floor.

She barely recognised herself.

It was a wonder how a little makeup and a fancy gown could change a person.

Her gown, she hadn't been expecting, and when she'd first slipped it on, she'd felt a little uncomfortable but now, seeing everything together, she admitted that it was perfect.

The soft black material was unlike anything she'd felt before, and it clung to her body in all the right places. From the front, it looked modest with a high scoop neckline leading into long, tight sleeves that fell to her wrists. The gown conformed to her shape, continuing down her legs before flaring out into a mermaid-style, the hem brushing the ground. The back, however, there wasn't one; the material lacking from the back of her neck all the way to the dimples in the small of her back, and despite that, her modesty was still intact, even if she wasn't able to wear a bra and being grateful the designer had obviously had the thought to have one sewn into the dress.

Her hair had been tamed to waves after much effort, and whilst strands framed her face, the rest had been pinned back with a Dutch braid on either side of her head leading into a thick, full bun at the nape of her neck that was just messy enough to be considered fashionable. Her makeup had been done to her wishes, a blend of nude, brown and gold on her eyelids with a slight cat-eye being done in black eyeliner. Mascara had been applied to her lashes and a nude-clear lip gloss coated her lips. With her diamond jewellery contrasting against the black gown and her earrings on show due to her hair being pulled back, her clutch purse in hand and her shoes on her feet, Hermione deemed herself ready.

It wasn't often said or thought but that night, Hermione _felt_ beautiful.

After catching a glimpse of the time and being sure to equip her shoes with a Balancing and Cushioning Charm to prevent any potential trips or slips, she placed her wand into the holster tied to her inner thigh and hidden beneath her dress, she reached for her coat and slipped it on before taking her leave from her room.

Noting the dark sky and the slight chill, Hermione turned on the fireplace so Sally might sleep before it comfortably, and after leaving out more food should she wish it, she crossed to the lift and descended to the foyer, journeying to the private car park without issue.

Heading for parking bay 8, she stopped before a car that had already reversed out of the bay and was now running, a kind-looking man with greying hair peeking out from beneath his chauffeur's cap, bright blue eyes and wrinkles stepping forward.

"Dr. Granger," he greeted with a slight bow. "I am Harold, your driver for this evening."

"Good evening," she greeted. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I am to assume you know where it is we are heading?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Might you tell me?"

He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling. "I'm sorry, Dr. Granger, I have been instructed _not_ to reveal the agenda for this evening. Mr. Stark wishes for it to be kept secret."

She pursed her lips but otherwise nodded.

"Is it far?"

"No more than a ten minute drive if traffic is not an issue."

Harold held his hand out and Hermione placed hers into his, allowing him to escort her to the back passenger's side and he held the door open and helped her in before closing the door behind her.

~000~000~000~

Stepping out into the cold evening air, Hermione was grateful for the warm, thick coat she wore. As Harold helped her out of the car and Hermione stepped away so the door might be closed, she stared up at the large, traditional-looking building with flags perched above the large modern entrance, the sign depicting the name of the hotel, and a bronze-gold statue of some important figure sat in the middle.

When Harold offered his hand, he escorted her towards the entrance and into the foyer, fitted with large pillars, hanging lights and a black and white checked floor. As her eyes did a quick search of her surroundings, Harold released her hand and stepped back, bowing to her before wishing her a good evening and taking his leave.

Hermione, having no idea what she was doing at the Savoy Hotel when she was residing elsewhere, and having no idea where she was supposed to go and what she was supposed to do next, was relieved when she spotted Tony.

He approached slowly, dressed in black shiny dress shoes, a black tuxedo with a white shirt and black bowtie. When she looked to his expression... He was dumbfounded. Speechless. The day Tony Stark was lost for words was the day pigs flew, the dinosaurs returned and Hell froze over.

He halted to a stop before her, his gaze slowly and silently cataloguing her appearance, taking it all in. She wasn't offended by his blatant staring; she knew she looked far different than either of them were used to and it was quite jarring.

"Tony?"

She received no response, his gaze seemingly far away, as if he were in a world of his own and no one else was around.

"Tony?" She called a little louder.

"What?" He blurted rudely, blinking slowly in confusion.

She arched an eyebrow. "You're staring."

"I am," he agreed without pause, nodding his head with his eyes once more doing a quick head to toe scan. "You look... Well, you look..." He paused, struggling to finish his compliment.

"You being speechless is all the compliment I need," she replied, his eyes moving back to hers once more. "And whilst I appreciate the gesture, I hope you know I can't keep this," she gestured to her gown and more specifically, the diamond jewellery.

"Sorry, lost the receipt, can't return it."

She narrowed her eyes. "Then I hope you know I intend to repay you the full amount of purchase."

He rolled his eyes. "No, you won't."

"Yes, I _will_ ," she argued.

"I'm a billionaire, I can afford it."

"I'm a millionaire, _I_ can afford it," she fired back.

"It's a gift, you can't return it, that would be rude," he folded his arms smugly.

"Well, then I wish to give you a gift, too. A gift that just so happens to be an amount of money that equals the total cost of the items I'm wearing."

"I won't accept it."

"If I give it to you in cash, you can't return it, that would be rude," she echoed.

Tony's brow furrowed in amused annoyance before he sighed.

"Alright, we're goin' 'round in circles. Let's talk about this another time, we've dinner reservations to make."

He held his hand out and after pursing her lips, she set her hand in his own, allowing him to guide it to the crook of his elbow as he moved to stand beside her before leading the way through the hotel.

"I knew you were up to something," Hermione told him. "The moment the makeup artist and hairdresser arrived, I knew. And when I received a phone call to inform me of packages having been delivered, I already knew what I'd find before I opened them. What are you up to?"

"What? A guy can't take his best female British friend to dinner without having an ulterior motive?" He questioned innocently.

"Of course, however, this is not just any dinner, is it? Our attire leads me to believe you've something planned."

He merely smirked and let the subject drop, barely stepping into the Savoy Grill when they were immediately ushered to a secure and private dining space, the decor dark and the lighting dim to give that intimate feel.

When Tony helped her into one of the two chairs at the small round table, he moved to take the seat opposite her, barely looking to the waiter when he ordered a bottle of wine without looking at the wine menu.

"And how has your day been?" He asked, drawing Hermione's eyes away from the decor and back to him.

"Relaxing, for the most part."

"Good," he nodded. "It's about time you learned the meaning of the word."

"Please," she scoffed. "You're one to talk; you work just as much as I do, if not more," she pointed out. "And your day? I hadn't expected you to be gone so early this morning, I must've just missed you."

"For the most part, boring. But, it has recently picked up," he replied, looking to her pointedly.

When the waiter returned with their wine, he gave them their menus and after taking a few moments to look over the menu (Hermione learning that Gordon Ramsey himself would be preparing their meals) she was a little surprised by the prices, it being cheaper than she'd expected. As she was deciding on her order, she was interrupted by Tony when he ordered all three of the appetizers, main courses _and_ desserts, being completely unsurprised and rolling her eyes.

"What?" He questioned, seeing her amused expression as the waiter took their menus and left to place their orders. "Now we can experience a bit of everything."

"You're a terrible decision-maker."

"I'm not," he protested.

"No, then why do you order every item on the breakfast menu every morning, rather than simply choosing one specific thing? Why do you always order more than one dessert from Emma's? Why do you always add more than one type of cheese to the grocery list when most of the time it goes in the bin?" She challenged.

"I like to have options," he defended.

"If you say so," she shrugged one shoulder lightly. "So, why are we really here?"

"Really, we're on this again?"

"Yes, we are. I know you're up to something."

"Can't you just enjoy yourself, live in the moment?"

"I hate surprises."

"You trust me, don't you?"

"With my life, yes. With my safety, yes. With my sanity, no."

He snorted. "You've nothing to worry about, calm down and trust me."

~000~000~000~

They'd just finished their main courses, simply having set the dishes between them as they both ate whatever they wished to, and as the plates were taken away and they were once more left alone whilst they waited on dessert, Hermione sipped at her wine, watching as Tony dug his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket, withdrawing with what looked to be a see-through glass screen, only slightly bigger than her hand.

Recognising it as it being his super-fancy-tech phone, she'd assumed he'd received a message or email that he needed to see to, she hadn't expected him to hold it out towards her in offering.

She blinked slowly, her eyes darting between him and the device in his hand.

"What?" She asked dumbly.

"You threw yours in the river," he responded, his amusement with her actions clear no matter the fact days had passed since then. "You need a replacement."

"That's generous of you, but I can't take it."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, you can," he disagreed, reaching over to lift her hand with his free one before placing the phone to sit in her palm and drawing back. "I know you've got your bad tech juju, so I made sure to reinforce in. The thing's damn bulletproof, nothing can break it, not even you," he said confidently.

"Don't underestimate me, Tony."

"And it's so easy to use, a baby would have no issues with it. I've made sure to include Jarvis' programming, so you might use him when you're out of the Tower. That way you'll always have a connection to me and him, should you need it."

"Doesn't that mean you can track me?" She arched a knowing eyebrow.

"If I wanted to track you, I'd use other means," he shrugged. He'd done it before through security, traffic and ATM cameras. "Be grateful, there's only two people in the world that have access to this phone. Me and you. It's the most advanced cellular technology in existence, d'you have any idea how many people would kill to get their hands on it?"

"Then perhaps you best keep it," she held the phone out towards him. "As a precaution, one less person to lose it."

"No, I'm more likely to lose it than you are," he pointed out. "You're the responsible one, I'm the brains. Well, you're the brains, too. But you're the responsible one," he corrected. She rolled her eyes at him. "It's a gift."

"You've been giving a lot of gifts today," she remarked, reluctantly slipping the phone into her clutch purse before setting it aside on the table when he refused to take it back. She'd give it a week before it exploded in her face.

"I'm a generous person."

She hummed in response, reaching for her wine and sipping from it, her eyes locked in a gaze with him.

"So, will you tell me something else? Tell me another of your abilities?"

Tipping her head, she set her wine glass aside and nodded slowly, her brow creasing in thought.

"I don't want you to freak out."

"You won't," he offered confidently.

"Very well," she conceded, "Should I wish to, I can read minds."

He stared at her in disbelief before a snort sounded. "There's no such thing as telepaths."

"I agree," she nodded. "I'm not a telepath, but I _can_ read minds."

His eyes narrowed and forgoing table manners, he set his elbows on the table, clasped his hands together and set his chin atop.

"Prove it," he challenged. "What am I thinking right now?"

"You're thinking I couldn't possibly know what you're thinking," she shrugged. "And no, that wasn't me reading your mind, that was a well-educated assumption. It's what most people think in this situation."

"Then read my mind."

"Tony," she began with a sigh, "I don't enjoy using this particular ability. Not only is it a gross invasion of others' privacy, not only is it quite taxing to perform, not only can it leave both myself and the other person with a monstrous headache, but it's highly uncomfortable. You see, I don't just see thoughts, I see memories and I can feel the emotions that were present at the time as if they were my very own, no matter the circumstance. Fear, love, lust, envy... I feel it all and I don't enjoy the experience."

"Have you ever ready my mind?"

"No," she swore. "I would never invade your privacy in such a way, and to be honest, a mind as brilliant as yours, I'm not certain I _want_ to see. If your thoughts are anything like your behaviour, I imagine your mind to be a chaotic mess that would take time to invade. For someone like you, it would take more effort and focus, perhaps even a little bit of a shove. And had I read your mind, you would know. You might not know specifically what it was or what was happening, but you most certainly would've felt a presence."

"A presence?" He repeated sceptically.

"Yes. You ever get that feeling where you're not alone? Your certain there's someone or thing nearby despite knowing you're the only one present? It's a little like that. Perhaps a shiver down your spine, or a ghost of a touch against your skin? And if I'm routing through a person's thoughts and they try to put up a fight, either trying to hide something from me or trying to push me out of their heads, that's when it hurts and a headache's felt. It's an incredibly difficult skill to learn, let alone master. There are very few in my community that are able to do so, I knew three and they're now dead."

He tipped his head, his expression concentrated and thoughtful.

"You said _learn_? Are you not already born with this ability? And if not, do you learn it in that fancy boarding school of yours? How old are you when it's taught to you?"

Hermione paused in answering when the waiter arrived with their desserts, and once he took his leave, she selected her dessert spoon as she first wished to sample the passion fruit and lime baked Alaska.

"No, we're not born with it. I know I said my abilities can't be learned or gained through technology or genetic alteration and the like, but this is where it gets tricky. Everyone from my community is more or less born with the same potential, though it isn't uncommon for there to be others that are more powerful, but that's an entirely different subject matter. There are skills that can be learned, such as my being able to read minds, but it's so difficult and requires years of practice, that most don't attempt it, and it can be said for many other skills and abilities. Not only was I required to learn it for one of Masteries, at least a little, but I'd always had an interest in it given the level of difficulty associated with it. And despite the years that have passed, still, I am not considered to be a master of it. And no, it is not taught in schools. One, due to the difficulty level and most teaching staff aren't capable of it themselves, and two, it's not quite illegal, rather a bit of a grey area."

"Interesting," he muttered to himself, Hermione practically seeing the gears of his mind turning as he processed what she'd told him. "Read my mind."

"Tony," she sighed, "I don't like doing it."

"I'm giving you my permission. I've got nothing to hide, most of my life's public knowledge anyway," he shrugged. "And if I don't fight you, I should escape the headache, not that I know _how_ to fight you off, that is."

"That's also a difficult learned skill," she supplied, "Again, one very few have mastered. It's the opposite of reading minds. It's the art of protecting one's mind from outside influences, and it's even more difficult."

"And you can do this?"

"Yes, I can. We refer to the skill of reading minds as Legilimency, and the ability to block outside influences as Occlumency. I'm a much better Occlumens that I am a Legilimens. It requires mentally constructing a series of barriers in order to prevent anyone from potentially breaking through. Giving that I've always been meticulous in the way I organise my thoughts, it came much easier to me. But it doesn't just allow for the blocking of other Legilimens, it also teaches how to properly decompartmentalise and aids in dealing with stressful or traumatic events, by effectively, shutting down the ability to feel or locking away painful memories."

"Read my mind. I _want_ you to. I want to experience it."

"You're not an experiment, you're a human being. Did you not listen to the part where I explained it was frowned upon?"

"No, what you said was that it's not _illegal,_ " he corrected. "Come on, don't be a chicken. If word got out, there'd be a line of people out the door wishing to poke and prod at my brain. I'm giving you my _permission_ to do so."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" She all but huffed.

"Nope," he grinned. "So, off you go, Poppins. I'm waiting."

Reluctantly setting down her spoon, she silently summoned her wand from the holster and held it beneath the table, out of Tony's view.

"For the record, this was your idea and I am not responsible for any fallout, including potential migraines, nausea or embarrassment."

"Yeah, yeah, got it," he waved an impatient, dismissive hand. "Just get on with it, we haven't got all night. Unless, you can't do it?" He arched a challenging eyebrow, his mouth twitching into a smirk.

"You asked for this, Tony. _Literally_ ," she reminded before taking a moment to close her eyes and focus her mind.

Opening her eyes, she leaned forward, her gaze locking with Tony's, her eyes searching his expectant expression before she whispered, " _Legilimens_ ," beneath her breath, instantly being pulled into Tony's mind.

It was too much too fast.

His brain, it _was_ a chaotic mess, as she assumed it would be. Thoughts, feelings and memories swirled around her too fast for her to even attempt to latch onto one in particular. She felt herself being pulled into different directions, different thoughts, feelings, memories from different times in his life; childhood, adolescence, adulthood...

She couldn't take it.

She withdrew with a breathless gasp, leaning back into her chair, her free hand gripping the edge of the table cloth, her chest heaving and a bead of sweat swimming down her temple. Her vision blurred and she winced, feeling the dull thud at the back of her skull. Her vision clearing, she noted Tony's concerned frown almost instantly.

"What happened?" He demanded, his eyes snapping to the door and shooing away the waiter before he even had the chance to properly enter the room, scaring the poor guy half to death.

"It's too much," she muttered, her eyes closing and her head tipping back against the chair. "Your mind... Bloody hell, Tony, how d'you cope? I was barely in there a minute and I felt myself being pulled in one too many directions; it was uncomfortable, suffocating, claustrophobic."

"I didn't feel anything, you did nothing but stare at me."

"It requires eye contact, without it, it won't work. However, it is much easier when the intended target is asleep. The mind's less busy, calmer and rested and it requires less effort on my part. I didn't wish to harm you, so I didn't use force. I simply retreated."

"Can I make it easier for you?"

Sighing, she opened her eyes and lowered her gaze to his. "If you focus on one thing in particular? Perhaps. I don't wish to go digging through your memories or risk intruding on your privacy any further than I will be, so maybe think of something in particular that I might repeat to you, as evidence that I am capable of reading your thoughts. It's impossible to empty the mind unless you have the training I do; there will always be background noise, so to speak, so try to put your focus on a word or phrase."

"That's doable," he nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "Okay," his arms lowered to sit against the table, their dessert forgotten. "I'll think something and you repeat it back to me... Go."

Taking a calming breath and doing her best to steel herself against what she was about to face, she sat taller, squared her shoulders and nodded in agreement.

When she slipped into his mind, she was assaulted, feeling as though she were being swept off her feet and she had to grip on for dear life and just as she was about to draw back, she felt the pressure lessen, all thoughts and feelings falling into the background with one standing out the most, bringing attention to it.

She latched onto it, it taking a moment to drown out the other noises and interpret it.

"You're wondering if it's possible to genetically alter a dolphin so they might be born with legs and the ability to walk on land. A much nicer and less dangerous crocodile, is what I'm getting."

Being unable to lift her eyes from his if she wished to stay connected to him, she was able to see the slight widening of his eyes but not his eyebrows shooting up high on his forehead, genuinely surprised.

Not only did she _feel_ it, she knew that his thought was so random there wasn't any possibility of her guessing correctly.

She was once more assaulted by his thoughts but it cleared quickly, another sole thought being presented to her.

"And now you're thinking that Happy might have a bit of a crush on Mandy, the cute pink-haired waitress from Milo's."

Again, she felt his surprise before his eyes narrowed in challenge and concentration.

"The square root of Pi is 1.77245385091... The distance between the Sun and Jupiter is approximately 778 kilometres... The population of Ohio is 11.55 million... The estimated number of breeding paired penguins in the Antarctic region is 20 million. How do you even know that?... What do you do with a sick chemist? If you can't Helium, and you can't Curium, then you might as well Barium. Wow, that was _terrible_... Moths, you hate moths... With the advances in medicine and technology, the potential for successful resurrection freaks you the hell out. Who wants month-old zombies stumbling about the place?"

"Fucking hell!" He exclaimed disbelievingly and Hermione took that as her cue to draw back, her stinging, tired eyes blinking furiously to repair the damage caused during their staring match.

Tony leaned back into his chair, his arms folding over his chest and his head tipping back as he stared up at the ornate chandelier above. Silently, Hermione returned her wand to its holster and reached for her spoon, tasting the hazelnut mille-feuille for the first time before trying the banana and lime Paris brest. She decided she much preferred the baked Alaska but was much too full and so she set her spoon down and reached for her wine, finishing the remainder of her glass, it helping to fend off the headache.

Hermione allowed Tony the silence he needed, knowing that what she was capable of doing was hard to process for someone who wasn't in the know of or capable of magic. Several moments later, a snigger unexpectedly fell past his lips and Hermione blinked in confusion when it morphed into a laugh. She eyed him worriedly.

"Don't look at me like that," he chastised, "I'm not ready for the loony bin just yet."

Hermione was in disagreement.

He gave his head a shake before pushing away from the backrest and leaning forward, his forearms settling on the table.

"So, you _can_ read minds," he said aloud.

"Yes, I can," she confirmed. "But as I said, I don't make a habit of doing it. It's very taxing and intrusive."

"It took a moment to notice it, but I did _feel_ something, something _different_ ," his brow furrowed in thought before he nodded to himself. "Does Fury know?"

She snorted. "Most definitely not," she shook her head. "Do you have any idea what he'd demand of me if he knew what I could do? The infiltration, the interrogations he'd make me do of the prisoners, targets and those on SHIELD's radar? He knows the truth and he knows I've many capabilities, he just doesn't know _what_ they are. He'd have never agreed to sell my contract to you if he did. He'd never allow me to leave; he'd hound my leader and threaten war unless more of my people were permitted to work for him."

"Hush-hush," Tony nodded in understanding.

They were interrupted when a 'ping' sounded and Tony dug into his inner pocket, pulling his phone out, peering at the screen before slotting it back into place. Pushing his chair away from the table, he stood and crossed to Hermione, holding his hand out in offering.

Silently, Hermione reached for her clutch purse and placed her hand in his, rising to her feet as he led the way towards the door, stopping briefly to retrieve her coat from the coat rack in the corner and helping her into it.

"Where are we going?" She questioned.

He looked to her, his eyebrow arching. "You thought I only had plans for dinner?"

She pursed her lips before saying, "Shouldn't we pay before leaving?"

"Already taken care of."

"I hope you don't expect me to allow you to pay for the entire meal? At most, we should split the bill."

He rolled his eyes. "Relax, Poppins, I can afford it."

"So can I," she argued.

"It's my treat this evening. No more arguments," he replied, his mouth twitching at her unhappy scowl. "And if we don't wish to be late, we best hurry. Harold is waiting for us outside."

~000~000~000~

"I can't believe it," Hermione breathed out, peering over the railing and down at the seated crowd below them. "I'm in the bloody Royal Opera House."

Tony snorted from beside her, distractedly flipping through the programme in his hand before he set it aside and dug into his pocket, pulling his phone free, his thumbs tapping away at the screen at an almost inhumanly fast pace.

"I'm sat _in_ the Royal's box at the Royal Opera House. I didn't even know that was allowed."

"It is if you have money," Tony shrugged lazily. "And if you're on a first-name basis with good old Liz."

Hermione spluttered. "Don't be so disrespectful," she whisper-hissed, her eyes darting to peer over her shoulder for any eavesdroppers but they were alone.

"What? Lizzie _loves_ me," he defended, slotting his phone back into his pocket and shifting to get more comfortable in his chair, slouching slightly, folding his arms over his chest and stretching out his legs, crossing them at the ankles.

"Sit up," Hermione scolded.

"We're the only ones here," he rolled his eyes. "No one's going to bother us. Once this starts, we're in this for the long haul so you best get comfortable. We'll be here at least three hours, should everything go to schedule."

Giving him a look of annoyance, she faced forward once more, deliberately straightening her posture and setting her hands delicately in her lap to not only prove a point, but to make up for Tony's lack of manners, ignoring Tony's knowing snigger whilst she did so.

Moments later, the lights in the room dimmed, the chatter from below fell to silence and the curtains were drawn back, Hermione being instantly pulled in by the music and dancers filling the stage, her posture relaxing as she leaned closer to the railing.

Tony's mouth twitched, his eyes not transfixed on the dancers like every other audience member, but on Hermione, observing her wonderstruck expression, her wide eyes and slightly parted mouth, looking very much like an awed child.

It was only a few weeks ago that he and Hermione had been talking over dinner, the movie playing on TV forgotten, and although he wasn't certain on how they'd gotten onto the subject, Hermione had confessed that she'd never been to the theatre despite wishing to experience it at least once in her life, regardless of whether she enjoyed the experience or not. Tony thought it ridiculous that the woman was born and raised in London and later lived in New York and she'd not visited a theatre, two cities known for it.

And so, that morning after he'd arranged for Hermione to undergo a spa day, it had only taken a short phone call to ensure she was finally given the opportunity to experience a live ballet, Swan Lake to be precise, at the Royal Opera House.

And watching her relaxed, awestruck reaction, the way her eyes widened, her teeth nibbled at her lip, her hands gripped her gown, he thought she was much more entertaining than the ballet and he'd happily watch her for the entirety of their three hour stay.

At least he wouldn't be bored.

~000~000~000~

It was a little after eleven o'clock when they exited the Royal Opera House and Tony ushered Hermione into the car before climbing in beside her.

She'd been silent for the last ten minutes, a new record for her.

"You didn't like it?" Said Tony.

Hermione slowly drew her eyes from peering out of the tinted window and watching the passing cars and people on the street.

"What makes you say that?"

"You're quiet," he shrugged. "You're _never_ quiet."

"Not quiet, contemplative," she corrected. "What I just witnessed... It was," she paused, a crinkle of thought appearing in her brow. "It was an experience I will never forget, an experience that was quite overwhelming and one, I'm sure, I'm not yet ready to experience again so soon. Between the atmosphere, the tension, the music, the dancing, storytelling... It's taking me longer than I'd like for it to properly sink in. But now I understand the reasoning for my gown. I had thought I was a little overdressed for the restaurant but seeing some of the clothing the other audience members wore..." She trailed off.

"Your outfit cost twice what theirs did, mine included."

"That makes me feel better, Tony," she snarked.

Turning to look out the window when the car slowed to a stop, Hermione's eyes returned to Tony's.

"Where are we?" She asked, noting that they hadn't returned to the hotel as she'd assumed they would giving the late hour and that they were returning to New York the next day.

"What? Did you think the night was over?" He offered innocently.

"It's getting late and we're due to return to New York," she pointed out.

"This is the last stop of the evening, I promise. We just have to make an appearance, make small talk, throw a little money around and we'll be out within the hour."

He stepped out of the car and after Harold helped her out, Tony took her hand and guided her forward, through the back entrance of a large building, she noted. After her coat was given to a member of staff and it was placed in the cloakroom, Tony confidently led the way towards the room in which men wearing tuxedos and women wearing elegant and couture gowns flittered to and from, a chorus of conversation being accompanied by a live orchestra.

As they stepped in the doorway, Hermione froze, her back stiffening and her hand gripping Tony's tightly at seeing the few hundred people mingling, dancing and consuming champagne and wine.

"Poppins?" Tony muttered in concern, gently tugging her out of the doorway and from blocking the path of the other attendees.

"I can't do this, Tony," she whispered. "There's too many people."

"Okay?" He drew the word out slowly.

"You don't understand. It's something from my past."

Tony's gaze slowly examined her frightened, horrified expression. Something to do with the reasoning behind her awarding of the Victoria Cross? He thought. Something to do with combat and battle?

"We live in Manhattan."

"We're in an enclosed space. Large crowds outdoors in the city aren't an issue," she muttered, Tony noting the way her eyes slowly catalogued the number of windows, entrances, tables, servers and guests, almost as if she were searching for threats.

She'd done this before, he remembered. He'd seen her do the exact same thing when they'd arrived for the dinner reservation; when they'd arrived at the airport; every time she entered Emma's, even when she stepped into the Tower. It was instinctual, he realised. But it was instinctual because it was a learned, repetitive behaviour. In her past, she was required to be cautious and suspicious.

"We'll be here no more than an hour," he promised.

He didn't want her to be uncomfortable but he did want to push her, to test her limits. He wanted to help her by forcing her to face her fears even if she hated him for it.

"A lot of them have been here a while, they'll be tipsy by this point, no threat level," he offered, feeling her grip loosen on his hand. "I'll do my best to not allow us to be separated but if we are, I won't be far, and you've got a phone now, just text me or have Jarvis send a message and I'll find you."

He saw her eyes close as she took a deep inhale and slowly exhaled through the mouth, and when her eyelids fluttered open, a steely, determined expression replaced the fear. She gave a single, sharp nod.

"An hour. I can do that. I _will_ do that," she said to herself.

"That's my girl," he said proudly.

Releasing her hand, he settled his on the small of her back, his palm and calloused fingertips pressing against her warm, bare skin. His mouth twitched when he felt her shudder. Giving her a gentle push, she took a step forward as he guided her further into the large occupied room.

Hermione took in the marble floor, crystal chandeliers, stone columns, high ceiling and the projected images of children that were on the back wall.

"Why are we here?"

"Fundraising gala," he answered, manoeuvring through the throng of conversing and tipsy guests. "Tonight's focus is charities that centre on children, aiding with poverty, hunger, education, abuse and neglect. All money raised is divided between them. In this room currently are celebrities, influential members of society, fundraisers and a number of the wealthiest people in Europe," said Tony. "If you don't recognise them, that's not an issue, I barely know more than ten in attendance myself. D'you know how to entertain?"

"I don't like doing so, but I can work a crowd, if that's what you're asking," she replied, her eyes cataloguing those around her as they passed, noting that she did recognise some of them. Actors, pop stars, authors, heiresses, CEOs and the like. "I've experience in events such as this. In my community, before I moved to New York, I was required to attend the annual ball to commemorate the..."

" _The_?" Tony prompted when she paused.

"Never mind," she cleared her throat.

"This something to do with your past?"

"Not yet, Tony," she sighed tiredly.

Usually, he'd have pressed further but he held back, knowing it wasn't the time or place.

"My point being, I know when to smile and listen and nod prettily, and when to steer a conversation to a different topic or shut my mouth."

"You won't be receiving much titillating conversation," Tony remarked, stepping out of the way of a stumbling tipsy blonde and her giggling companion. "You'd think they'd have more sense than to get drunk at a fundraising gala."

"Please," Hermione scoffed, "I've seen the articles on your drunken escapades during public events."

"I was young then," he shrugged.

"It was last year," she deadpanned.

"But they were _my_ events. And I've never gotten drunk at a charity event for children," he argued.

"Impressive," she teased.

"Not that I can remember, at least," he added and she sniggered at him, gladly accepting the flute of champagne he offered her after plucking it from a server's tray.

She knew she shouldn't have too much more to drink. Not only had she already had a glass of champagne earlier in the day and three glasses of wine at dinner, but if she drank too much champagne, she'd wake feeling awful the next day and she didn't have any Hangover Potion with her.

Tony's presence was soon noticed, being one of the most profiled guests present amongst the few hundred attendees, and Hermione plastered a fake, polite smile on her face, quietly remaining by Tony's side as people came to greet and converse with him and she counted the minutes until they could leave.

It took over an hour just for the greetings to be over with, and Tony had been all too proud to introduce her as _Dr_. Hermione Granger, one of the greatest minds he'd ever met. Not only was it quite flattering, but also embarrassing, especially when he drew the conversation away from himself and boasted on the numerous highly secretive but society shattering projects she was working on. Hermione had no idea why he'd said that; he knew nothing about her projects.

When she felt herself getting a little overwhelmed, she excused herself to use the restroom, taking a moment to enjoy the silence before she returned to the ballroom. She knew where Tony was immediately despite not being able to visibly see him, the large gathered crowd was hard to ignore and Tony stood in the centre of it.

Not wishing to have to fight her way through the throng of people to reach him, she stood off to the side, people watching. She was soon interrupted when she felt a presence beside her and she slowly turned to her left, seeing the middle-aged woman with grey-blonde hair pulled into a low bun, her dark eyes frames by dark lashes and crow's feet, a light rouge applied to her cheekbones and pink lips. Her gown was very conservative compared to the younger women present, herself included, but that by no means took away from the beauty of the ruby coloured silk.

"Taking a moment, Dear?" She asked kindly. There was a slight accent that told of the woman not being born in Britain, but that she'd been in the country long enough to pick up on the dialect habits.

"Yes," Hermione replied, "It's a little too loud and crowded for my tastes."

The older woman nodded before sipping from her champagne flute delicately. "Mine too," she agreed. "I believe we are the only two that are not stumbling and tripping over ourselves... I'm Florence, Florence James," she introduced.

"Hermione Granger," Hermione greeted, accepting the older woman's hand and giving it a gentle but firm shake. "It's lovely to meet you."

"Oh, I dare say I am quite relieved to have the opportunity to speak with you," she replied, "Of course, I couldn't help but notice your companion. Tony Stark?" She arched an eyebrow. Hermione gave her a suspicious once over and the woman laughed. "Not to worry, Dear. I am not fishing for gossip, merely just wishing to satisfy my own curiosity. Forgive an old woman."

"Old?" Hermione questioned. "You don't look a day over thirty-five."

She smiled brightly. "I like you," she gestured to her with a point of a manicured fingered before consuming the rest of her champagne. Once done, she stopped a passing server, deposited the empty flute on the tray and retrieved two full flutes, handing one to Hermione. "Come, let's have a chat away from the eavesdroppers."

She didn't allow her the opportunity to decline, her arm looping around Hermione's as she dragged her away from the wall and towards the tables, further away from the orchestra and crowd. Taking a seat at an empty table, Hermione was sure to keep her posture perfect and she set her hands in her lap.

"Much better," the woman sighed, taking a sip from her champagne as she sat in the seat beside her. "And your relationship to Mr. Stark?" She prompted. "Your beauty is undeniable but I've seen men and their arm candy, and you, are most certainly more than just arm candy."

Hermione felt her cheeks heat. "He's my best friend," she supplied. "And my boss. I work with Tony in his Manhattan office."

"Brains _and_ beauty," she remarked.

"What makes you think that?" Hermione asked curiously. "I didn't specify my role. I might be his personal assistant or perhaps his personal chef."

Florence arched an eyebrow. "Is that so, _Doctor_ Granger? From what I've overheard, you've four Masteries under your belt and are a licensed medical doctor. That's very impressive."

"Thank you," Hermione tipped her head. "It wasn't easy but it was definitely worth the stress."

The blonde laughed. "I can imagine. And your relationship with Mr. Stark?" She pressed.

"Friends, very good friends," Hermione promised. "And perhaps his personal chef, too. He'd live off fast-food if I didn't intervene and ensure he ate healthy, home-cooked meals."

Her mouth twitched. "I don't believe Mr. Stark thinks so."

"Excuse me!" Hermione's voice squeaked.

"As I said, I've seen many a man with women for arm candy and otherwise over the years, but what I've witnessed tonight between you, is more than just friendship. I'm not certain if you've noticed, but he's barely taken his eyes off of you, from the moment you arrived to the moment you returned from the restroom. In fact, he's looking at you right now."

Hermione's eyes widening, she darted a glance around the room, spying that Florence was right. Despite the distance between them and the number of people surrounding him, Tony didn't seem to be paying attention to anything as his gaze was focused on her, curiously looking to Florence and then back to her.

Understanding the silent question, she nodded and offered a smile, seeing his own nod of response before she looked away from him. He was checking in on her.

"He is very protective of you," Florence noted. "Men like Mr. Stark are all too happy to be the centre of attention and this evening, he has done nothing but bring attention to _your_ achievements, and he did so proudly. Neither did he leave your side or his hand the small of your back, if only when _you_ excused yourself. That is more than just friendship, Dear. I believe he cares for you."

Hermione blinked in surprise, a splutter sounding from her before she reached for her champagne and downed it in one.

"I apologise for my lack of manners," she began, the woman waving her off with a laugh, "But that's insane."

"Why? Are you not beautiful? Intelligent? Successful? Perfectly charming? I can't imagine why he wouldn't be interested."

"I'm not his type," Hermione protested.

"And you know this how?" Florence arched a challenging eyebrow. Hermione pursed her lips. "Exactly. Given those we choose to have in our lives, I am certain you know that not everything reported in the news can be trusted. And if you truly are as close to him as you say you are, then I imagine you know him better and more intimately than most. So tell me, _is_ it impossible for him to potentially have feelings for you?"

Hermione's gaze lowered to the ground, her lip being trapped by her teeth and a crease appearing in her forehead.

"I don't know," she muttered quietly.

"I've given you a lot to think about," the woman mused. "And please do so. From what I've witnessed so far, and in the little time you've been here, you would make a wonderful couple. And if my words are what help to nudge you in the right direction and offer clarity, then I will be most pleased and highly invested in your relationship. I imagine it will make the news and when it does, I'll be sure to follow along. I've not read a newspaper in decades but I'll do so and later boast to my friends that I am the one that helped you come together. Now, a change in subject would be appreciated, I'm sure. You said you work in Manhattan? Did you come to London solely for the fundraiser?" She questioned curiously.

"No," Hermione shook her head, glad for the reprieve. "I wasn't aware Tony planned on attending the fundraiser, or that there was one, not until the car pulled up outside and I realised we weren't at our hotel. We had dinner and Tony surprised me with my first trip to the ballet," she explained. Florence gave a knowing, pointed look but didn't interrupt. "I returned to London to visit with my family, it was my Godson's birthday and I've missed many birthdays since my move. Tony had some business and offered to fly over early so that we might travel together on his jet. We're to return to Manhattan tomorrow. And your companion?"

The blonde looked out towards the crowd. "The tall, dark-haired buffoon with two glasses of red wine in hand," she began with an irritated but fond tone, tipping her head towards the man of her meaning, "Is my husband of thirty-three years. Jon Alex Larsen."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "The oil tycoon?"

"Oh, don't be so surprised, Dear. I believe _your_ companion is much more interesting than mine. How did you come to work for him?" She replied, directing the topic back to Hermione.

"When I was around twenty-eight, twenty-nine, I was asked to work for a highly secret US government sector," said Hermione, seeing the older woman's arched eyebrow. "Tony hacked their mainframe out of boredom and discovered my personnel file, or rather, lack of. Without my knowledge, he bartered with my boss and my contract was sold to him."

"Men," Florence scowled with a shake of the head. "They believe they run the world, when in fact, we both know it's women. Without us they'd be useless."

Hermione's mouth twitched. "Well, when I discovered the news, of course, I was furious and I was sure to give my boss a piece of my mind before I was shipped off to Manhattan. And now, I'm actually happy Tony got involved. I'm much happier working for his company than my previous employer."

"I imagine the pay is much better," she commented.

"Incredibly," Hermione agreed. "He's an idiot, a clever idiot, and he's dangerous when there's no one around to watch out for him when he's conducting experiments. Luckily, my lab's below his so I can hear what he's up to most of the time and check in on him. We've both a tendency to get caught up in work and accidentally miss meals or forgo sleep, so we're lucky to have each other to rely on. How did you meet your husband?"

"On holiday," she answered, smiling fondly and her eyes seeming far away. "I was seventeen at the time, he was nineteen. My father took my mother and I to Switzerland. Jon was visiting the owner of the resort with his father. I hated him at first; he was arrogant, boisterous and dreadfully annoying. But he refused to give up; he followed me back to London and spent three months trying to win me over. We married the day after my eighteenth birthday and I moved to Norway with him. Over the years, we made it a point to spend six months in Norway with his family, and six months in London with mine, and now, we have three boys of our own, all in their twenties. Goodness, that makes me feel old."

"You don't look a day over thirty-five," Hermione repeated from earlier, receiving a smile from the woman. "Are you here for the fundraiser?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Once my parents passed several years ago, we decided to stay in Norway permanently. I believe there are a number of galas scheduled to be held in New York in the coming months, perhaps we might see each other once more."

"I hope we do," Hermione smiled. "And if you're ever visiting Manhattan, if you call Stark Tower and ask for me, I'll gladly take a day from work to meet with you."

"It would be wonderful to have a tour guide," she responded.

Hermione laughed. "Unfortunately, I've not long since moved to Manhattan myself and I'm still learning my way around the city."

"Then we'll get lost together," Florence nodded. "And I believe this is the end of our conversation. It's getting rather late and I best get my husband back to our hotel before he injures himself," she rolled her eyes. "And your companion is heading this way, no doubt wishing to steal you back."

They both rose to their feet and Hermione was surprised when the older woman pulled her into a hug before pressing a kiss to her cheek and taking her leave.

Tony appeared before her, his eyes locked over his shoulder and gazing at Florence as she coaxed her drunken husband away from his wine and out of the ballroom.

"Everything alright?" He asked, looking to her once more.

"Fine," she nodded. "Why?"

"In the last hour you've been talking to the woman, you seem to have gone through the entire spectrum of emotions."

"An hour? Really?" She questioned in surprise. It hadn't felt that long.

"At least," he confirmed.

"Just some friendly girl talk," she offered. He arched an eyebrow in question but she didn't elaborate further. "Have you met her before?"

"No, who was she?"

"The wife of Jon Larsen."

"Norwegian oil tycoon?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Lovely woman, she said she's scheduled to visit New York in the coming months for a few galas and fundraisers, and asked if we might meet up."

"Look at you making friends and getting a foot in the door with the trophy wives," he teased, holding his hand out. She placed her own in his without thought. "Well, the party should be winding down soon and we've been here longer than I promised, so let's have a quick spin on the dance floor before we leave. It'd be a shame not to do so with you looking the way you do in that gown," he said, leading the way to the dance floor.

"Looking the way I do?" She echoed, tipping her head.

"Have I not told you how beautiful you look?" He asked, his left hand holding her right and his right hand slipping to the small of her back, pulling her closer to him as she set her left hand on his shoulder and he began the slow steps.

"No, I believe you were so surprised you couldn't form words," her mouth twitched in amusement.

"Half the people in here haven't taken their eyes off you."

"Because I'm with _you_ ," she pointed out.

"It's nothing to do with me, Poppins," he shook his head. "Any last-minute plans before we leave for New York? Have you decided what to do about your _friends_?"

"Not yet," she sighed. "I'll have to sleep on it and make my decision in the morning. But I do have to attend a meeting with the Big Man that's in charge of the UK based community."

"About?" He prompted.

"We haven't really discussed what my working for you means, or the changes that have come about with Fury selling my contract, not in detail, at least. And George has asked that I be his son's Godmother, as well as the baby's when she's born. Rather than waiting for the paperwork to be sent to New York, I'm just going to fill it out and have it filed whilst at Headquarters, much faster that way."

"Can I come?"

"No."

"Why?" He all but pouted, looking like a dejected child.

"One, you don't have access or security clearance. Two, you don't yet know everything. And three, it's not safe for you."

"Why? If I wear my suit, I'm all but bulletproof."

"Not in that way, Tony. We're not savages and we don't make a habit of attacking people. You're in a different situation to most."

"Because?"

She brought her hand away from his shoulder and tapped the pad of her index finger against the middle of his chest, feeling his arc reactor beneath his shirt. He peered down at her hand, his brow furrowing in confusion before his gaze lifted to hers and she set her hand on his shoulder once more.

"Your arc reactor. The things we can do, there is a high possibility it will interfere with it and despite how annoying you can be, I like you too much to let you die, especially when it's easily avoidable."

"You read my mind," he argued.

"That's different. It wasn't aimed at your torso, and I'm only one individual. When there's a group of us, there's a larger output, so to speak. It literally emits from our being and body, and it can affect radio waves and technology."

"I don't feel anything."

"It's hard to explain without revealing everything, but when we do get to that point, you'll understand. For the time being, you just need to know that being around me... For you can be dangerous. And if I'm ever upset or furious to the point my hair puffs up like a cat whose hackles have been raised, you need to put distance between us for your safety, just as a precaution."

He eyed her oddly before reluctantly nodding and as the dance came to an end, he drew back before leading her through the crowd and out of the ballroom, pausing to retrieve her coat from the cloakroom.

She'd expected them to take the back entrance as they had before and although she knew the venue was filled with the rich and famous, she hadn't expected to step outside onto a red carpet, camera flashes immediately greeting them.

She felt Tony's grip on her hand tighten and he ignored the shouts and calls of the photographers and lead the way to the car, Harold already waiting for them. Hermione was ushered inside and Tony slipped in beside her, Hermione being grateful it was but a fifteen minute drive back to the Corinthia. She was exhausted.

When they stepped into the Penthouse, Sally being fast asleep by the fireplace and refusing to wake to greet them, Hermione said her goodnights and made for her room, but Tony stopped her.

Looking down at the hand that encircled her wrist, her eyes lifted to his before darting to his other hand that he slipped into his inner pocket, drawing back with a dark green, rectangular velvet box.

Holding it out towards her, Hermione took it from him reluctantly, opening it up and blinking down at the contents.

It was simple. Very simple compared to the diamonds she wore. Simple but beautiful.

A silver chain with a silver pendant in the shape of a dove. Not only was it her favourite bird, but it represented loved ones that had been lost. Bringing it closer to her eye line, she noted the tiny inscription of her parents' names on the wings.

"Happy Birthday, Poppins," Tony spoke softly.

Her eyes flew to his in surprise.

"I know it's not your birthday today, rather, it was on Thursday. Seeing as you didn't mention it before or after, I thought I'd wait to give you your gift."

"The spa treatment? Dinner? Ballet?" She whispered, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"All part of my plan to give you the best birthday possible," he confirmed, "Especially after what happened at your Godson's party. If there's ever a person that deserves it, it's you."

"The gown and diamonds. I can't keep it, Tony."

"You can, it's part of the package," he argued.

"It's too expensive."

"Not to me, and arguing over it won't change my mind."

Hermione closed her eyes as she sighed, resigning herself to the fact this was one battle she wasn't going to win.

"The dove?" She questioned.

"I know it's your favourite bird, and I know you've lost people in your life you loved. But doves also symbolise peace. I don't know what happened in your past, but I know it wasn't an easy experience, I know you still suffer the consequences, and I hope that this dove can bring you peace."

Her insides softened. They melted into a puddle of goo. This was the side of him only she saw. He was a sweetheart.

Snapping the box shut, she tugged her wrist from his hold before taking a step forward, folding her arms around his neck and burying her face against him, feeling his arms fold around her gently.

She wasn't entirely sure how long they stood in the embrace but when she drew back, she felt Tony's reluctance to let go. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she took a step back.

"Thank you, Tony," she breathed out. "The best gift I'd ever received was when Ginny went into labour on my birthday, and a few hours later, James was born, just missing out on sharing a birthday with me. I didn't think anything would be able to top that but you have. Thank you. I truly don't deserve you."

His eyes flittered down to her mouth briefly and when she turned and headed for her room, she felt his gaze on her retreating, bare back.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 22

"Jesus Bloody Christ!"

One hand pressed to her heart and the other reaching out to grapple and regain her balance before she slipped and hit the ground, Hermione caught herself on the wall, glaring up at Tony whilst her heart pounded in her chest and ears.

"What's wrong with you?" She hissed.

"That's a question we don't have time to answer," he shrugged. "So, how'd your meeting go?" He questioned nosily.

Hermione released a slow breath and rolled her eyes before stepping around Tony and heading away from the lift. She really wished he wouldn't stand before the doors right before she exited them, and he did it all the time. What was wrong with waiting for her to actually enter the room before asking things of her? He did it all the time at the Tower and it was downright annoying.

"Fine," she responded, hearing him following behind her as she moved to take a seat on the couch.

"So you're not going to be forced out of Stark Industries and back to your community now that Fury's terminated your contract with SHIELD?"

Hermione darted her gaze to him, noting the stiffness of his back and shoulders whilst his hands were stuffed into his jean pockets. His expression was blank but the slight frown at the corner of his mouth and the crinkle at his eyes gave him away. He was worried.

"No, and I'd like to see him try, he's scared of me."

The slumping of his shoulders was visible and he moved to sit on the couch beside her, leaning back into the cushions and propping his shoe-clad feet up on the coffee table as he twisted his torso slightly to face her.

"Realistically, whilst there are laws in my community that must be followed, like any other country, my people have freedom of speech and the like, meaning we might work wherever wish, for whomever and with whoever we wish. No one has a say in the matter. Regardless of the situation, should I wish to remain working for Stark Industries and so long as the Statute of Secrecy isn't broken, they can't interfere. Working for SHIELD was a different matter, but..." She shrugged her shoulders.

"Statute of Secrecy?" Tony tipped his head.

"That the secret of my people remains exactly that, a secret. And despite what you may know, you don't know everything and that means I've kept within the restrictions of the law, for now, at least. Kingsley is aware that you have ties to SHIELD through the Avenger's Initiative and he knows the reasoning for its existence, as well as knowing that I'm a candidate should I wish to accept. For that reason, he is aware that anyone involved in the Initiative will most likely be made aware of who I am and what I am capable of. With the approval of the Global Federation, I am licensed to practice my abilities globally and I am excused from the Statute of Secrecy, within reason, at least. I'm allowed to reveal the truth of my abilities to anyone I deem necessary, but I must be able to provide appropriate reasoning for my decision. And I'm not allowed to reveal the secrets of my community in its entirety, either. Again, only what I believe is necessary."

"You have to have a license to use your abilities?" Both eyebrows rose high.

"Not in our home communities. As I've said before, my community is spread across the world with our biggest and most populated areas being the UK, US and Europe. Surprisingly, Australia and New Zealand have the smallest population, I'm not sure why, actually," her brow creased in thought. "Seeing as I once belonged to the UK community and the UK is a member of the European Union, I was able to legally use my abilities in Europe. But when I left on my travels during the completing of my Masteries, I was required to apply for a permit should I wish to use my abilities outside of my own community. Children under the age of seventeen have an automatic trace on them, and should they use their abilities whilst a minor, the Ministry is automatically notified and action is taken to correct the situation, as well as perform a cleanup should it have been witnessed by anyone not of our community, essentially, a someone such as yourself, a normal human."

"A Muggle," Tony offered.

"How do you know that?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Deduction," he shrugged. "If you're a Muggleborn and your parents were born without magic, and Half-bloods and Purebloods are named so obviously, it makes sense you're labelled as a Muggleborn because your parents were Muggles."

"Consider me impressed," she remarked.

"What's the deal with the underage thing?"

"In my community, children are considered to be matured by the age of seventeen, and are no longer considered minors, but adults. For the safety of everyone, children are not permitted to practice or use their abilities outside of school until they reach the age of seventeen, and should they, there can be some serious consequences. By this point, they've already completed up to six years of education and training and are deemed competent enough not to do anything stupid, despite the fact we don't graduate until eighteen. Once we reach adulthood, the trace is removed and that makes it more difficult for our ability usage to be tracked, but it is still possible. Each member of my community has their own signature, a way to identify them, similar to fingerprints, as no two signatures are the same. Permits are required as a way of logging our 'signatures' into a system and should a crime be committed, we can be eliminated from the suspect pool or otherwise. When I first began working for SHIELD, I was given a permit to use my abilities in the US, but given that my work often took me out of the country, Kingsley held a meeting with the Global Federation and explained what'd happened with SHIELD discovering our existence, and along with giving him their permission to send me in as part of a truce, they offered me a license to practice my abilities no matter where in the world I am."

"You've diplomatic immunity," he surmised.

"More or less," she nodded. "Only, if I do commit a crime without proper necessity, I will be prosecuted."

"You get more interesting by the day."

She snorted. "Anyway, even if he had tried to pull me out and force me back into my community, I'd have kicked up a fuss, and as I said, he's terrified of me when I'm in a bit of a mood," she said sheepishly. He arched an amused eyebrow. "He's known me since I was fifteen. I'm well-known in my community for having a temper. But regardless of the fact, I have a right to work and live wherever I wish, whether that be here, or in my community. He's still pissed with Fury and he's still dealing with the backlash of unhappy Global Federation members, but for the most part, everything's been smoothed out. If Fury calls me in again or something should happen that requires the use of my abilities, I have to keep him in the loop, but otherwise, that's it."

"You're leaving something out," Tony said knowingly.

"I'm not," she denied, her brow creasing.

"You are," he disagreed confidently. "Come on, out with it."

She released a tired sigh and ran a hand through her hair, pulling it back from her face and over her shoulder.

"I almost ran into Harry."

"What?" He blurted out.

"Harry, he works at the Ministry, the department head of the Law Enforcement Department. He doesn't usually start work until nine-thirty, but he must have some big case going on because he was there over an hour earlier than I was expecting him. I deliberately set the meeting with Kingsley so early in order to avoid running into him."

"Did he see you? Speak with you?"

"He didn't see me, as far as I'm aware. We arrived at the same time and I'm not ashamed to admit I hid behind the fountain until I was sure he'd stepped into the lift. My meeting with Kingsley lasted longer than I was expecting, but it'd been a while since our last one so I wasn't all that surprised. I made a detour to the Family Affairs Department to complete the paperwork for becoming Fred's Godmother, which is why I'm back later than I promised. I didn't see him or Ron on the way out, thank heavens."

"Have you decided what you're going to do yet?"

"I've already sent word to George, he said he'd grab my things from Harry's for me. I don't want to leave without saying goodbye to the kids, but I can't risk running into Harry should he decide leave work early, and knowing my luck, that's precisely what would happen. I'll just write them a letter and floo call them later on."

"Floo what?"

"Oh," she said, blinking slowly, realising her slip up. "Our version of a Skype call."

"What's the difference?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"I would," he protested.

"Not yet," she shook her head. "Anyway, are you ready?"

"Where are we going again?"

"When was the last time you went to the supermarket?"

"Never."

"Thought so," she snorted, rising to her feet and smoothing out her lovely new coat. Whilst she'd complained about the price of it, no matter of the fact she hadn't paid for it, she had to admit it was quite lovely and surprisingly warm. "Well, if you want to stock up on Jaffa cakes and Monster Munch, we best head out and purchase them before we leave. And just as before, put this on," she instructed, producing the same pewter ring he'd worn before from her pocket. His eyes lit up as he took it from her and slipped in on his finger. "You're not keeping it. It should last a few hours," she told him, rolling her eyes at his dejected frown.

~000~000~000~

"I can't believe you," Hermione shook her head.

"What?" Tony questioned.

"Was there any need?" She pointedly looked to their hands and the numerous shopping bags they were carrying, but more specifically, the contents.

"What?" He repeated, blinking slowly. "It's not my fault."

"It is," she argued. "I didn't think it was possible for someone to purchase so many items that the supermarket would literally run out of stock."

"It's not my fault," he repeated in protest.

"They're having the rest delivered because we couldn't carry it all," she deadpanned. "I don't even know if it'll fit in the car."

"It's not my fault!" His voice rose slightly and she sniggered at him.

"You've a problem, Tony. What're you going to do when you run out?"

"Have Jarvis order more and get it shipped over," he shrugged. Hermione snorted at him. "In fact, I might just buy the company."

"Trust me, McVities won't sell to you; they're a proudly British company, and have been for over a century."

"Spoilsport," he pouted.

Whilst Hermione had wished to take a last-minute shopping trip in order to purchase a number of her favourite snacks to take back to New York with her, as well as a few treats she might later send to Natasha, Coulson and Barton, (should he behave himself) Tony had wished to tag along so he might stock up on a few of his favourite newly discovered snacks and treats.

As such, he'd purchased the _entire_ stock of Jaffa cakes, (which Hermione thought was a tad overboard) almost a quarter of the stock of Monster Munch and Mini Cheddars, several boxes of Aero and Crunchies, as well as biscuits and chocolate bars.

And after some nagging, she'd agreed to make a pit-stop by the bakery so Tony might buy himself a sausage roll and try a meat pie or two. She was grateful when they finally returned to the hotel, Hermione being wiped out and it had been the longest two hours of her life.

"I'm going to miss sausage rolls," he said sadly.

She snorted at him. "You can buy frozen party sausage rolls, which are just smaller and are baked in the oven, often seen at parties and buffets. But they'd defrost by the time we got to the jet."

Despite looking saddened by the news, he perked up. "It seems I've a new project, I need to create a small freezing device to keep food from defrosting, that way, I can have it shipped over."

"They're called freezers," she quipped, stepping into the lift with Tony by her side. "What time are we scheduled to leave?"

"Happy asked for a few more hours to visit some of the tourist sites he hasn't had the chance to see yet, so I've pushed the flight back a few hours."

"You're going soft," she teased, nudging him with her elbow.

"I'm not," he denied. "It didn't make much of a difference. We'll leave here about seven and we should be in the air no later than nine-thirty, putting touchdown in New York between nine and ten am."

"That works," she nodded in agreement, stepping out of the lift and further into the Penthouse. "I hope I don't step into my lab and see a mess. I did stabilise everything I needed to before leaving, but sometimes, it doesn't always work."

"We're not even back yet and you're already thinking about work," Tony rolled his eyes, unsurprised.

"Science waits for no one," she huffed, ignoring Tony's sniggers.

"Aunt 'Mione!"

Hermione froze mid-step and she felt Tony stiffen beside her as they both slowly twisted to peer over their shoulders, Hermione blinking in surprise when she saw little Fred sprawled on the rug by the fireplace where Sally lay, licking her paws and cleaning behind her ears.

"Fred?" She questioned slowly, absentmindedly setting her bags on the dining table and turning to face him, feeling Tony do the same beside her and feeling his confused, suspicious gaze darting between her and the little redhead. "What're you doing here? How'd you get here?"

He gave her a toothy grin as he pushed himself up onto unsteady feet and then ran towards her, nearly tripping over his own feet. He gave a laugh when Hermione stepped closer, reached down and then scooped him off his feet, settling him on her hip with his arms automatically looping around her neck.

"Daddy bring me. I wanted to see you."

"Daddy?" Both eyebrows shot up.

"Sugar Momma!" George called enthusiastically.

Hermione's eyes fluttered closed and she sent a silent damning to God before she turned to look behind her, the large dining table separating her and George as he stepped into the room.

"This place is bloody huge, I've knocked five years off my life span trying to find the bathroom."

"You went snooping," she deadpanned.

"Yeah," he grinned in admittance. "Couldn't help myself," he shrugged unapologetically. "So, how's my girl been since we last saw each other?" He asked, his expression growing a little more serious. "I hope you didn't let anything he said get to you. You know he's p-r-a-t," he spelt, not wishing to say the word in front of Fred should he pick it up and Angie hex him. "Of course, that doesn't excuse what he did, but, you know," he shrugged, offering a smile. "I'm certain dad dropped him on his head a few times as a baby, and I'm pretty sure I remember Charlie accidentally whacking a bludger at his head when we were kids."

"Charlie was a Seeker," she pointed out.

"Yeah, 'cause he was rubbish at everything else, case and point Ron getting smacked by a bludger, but to be honest, I'm not entirely certain that was an accident. I wouldn't blame him either, Ron's also been an ars... Well, you know," he shrugged, offering a smile as his eyes moved to Fred happily perched on her hip and then back to her. "Anyway, how're you doing?"

"Better," she promised.

"Good," he nodded. "And trust me, he didn't get off lightly. Mum just about fetched the wooden spoon, I haven't seen that happen since Charlie came back from school and told her he'd gotten someone pregnant."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "Charlie's got a kid? How the Hell didn't I know?"

"Nah," he shook his head. "False alarm, good thing too, he was only fifteen. I can't remember seeing mum so mad," he waved her off. "But after that, he was _very_ careful. Anyway, Angie wasn't that pleased either, the only reason he managed to get away from her was that she suddenly had to use the bathroom and couldn't wait until after she'd smacked him. But he didn't get away from Gin," he winced, "I wouldn't be surprised if he's still got the handprint on his cheek."

"Serves him right," Hermione scowled.

"Not enough in my opinion," he shrugged one shoulder. "Anyway, Sugar Momma, can I get my hug now?"

She blinked in surprise, realising that she hadn't greeted him yet and she stepped around the dining table, meeting George halfway and being pulled into a hug, Fred laughing when he was squished between them.

"So, are you going to introduce me?"

"Oh, of course," she shook her head, turning to face Tony and seeing his arms folded over his chest, his carefully blank expression and his appraising gaze.

"George, this is Tony."

"Finally," he nudged Hermione playfully. "Forgive the lady, she usually has better manners. It's good to finally put a face to the name," said George, ignoring Hermione's scowl as he stepped closer to Tony and offered his hand, giving the billionaire an enthusiastic handshake when he accepted. "George Weasley at your service, genius prankster extraordinaire. You need a rogue employee putting in their place, I'm your guy. You've an enemy you want to annoy to death, look no further."

"Really, George," Hermione sighed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face and making Fred giggle. "Leave the poor man alone, I've not properly prepared him for a meeting with you yet. Look, you've shocked him speechless! What're you doing here, anyway?"

"Brought your stuff," he shrugged, stepping away from Tony and back beside her as he gestured with a lazy wave of his hand towards the suitcase by the coffee table. "I was just gonna send it to you but Fred wanted to see you before you left for New York."

"And what did you slip in Tony's pocket?" She questioned knowingly.

"Nothing," he replied with an angelic smile. "Scout's honour."

"You weren't in the scouts," she rolled her eyes before moving to stand beside Tony, the man barely batting an eyelash when she shifted her free hand into his jacket pocket and drew back with a singular packaged biscuit, holding it up as evidence.

Tony blinked in surprise; he hadn't even felt it being slipped into his pocket and he looked to the unapologetic redhead appraisingly, still being unsure what to make of the man, it being the reason for his uncharacteristic silence. Well, that and the fact he was purposefully trying not to miss any of their conversation.

"Really? A Canary Cream?"

"What? It's part of the initiation process. I don't trust a man who hasn't been Canary-fied. If he wants to be in the ranks and match up to our genius, he has to eat it."

"George," she began, giving him a disapproving glance. "He can't eat this. You're forgetting about his arc-reactor. We can't risk anything affecting it."

"Ah, right, forgot about that," he rubbed the back of his with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Mate, wasn't trying to kill you or anything, just trying to make you feel as part of the family, is all."

Tony's head tipped slightly, an eyebrow arching questioningly.

"How'd you get in here?" He finally asked.

"Ah that, well, of course, I..."

"He doesn't know everything yet," Hermione interrupted George's response before looking to Tony. "It's one of the things we can do, and that's all I'm telling you for the moment. Anyway, how are you with kids?"

"Why?" He asked warily.

"I'll be back in a minute, I have to talk to George about something privately, keep him entertained."

Without warning and before Tony could ask for clarification, Hermione swiftly lifted Fred from her hip and deposited him in Tony's hold, deliberately ignoring his panicked, horrified expression as she stepped away, took George's hand and dragged him out of the room.

"You look funny," giggled Fred at the expression on his face.

Tony blinked in surprise before clearing his throat, awkwardly trying to shift Fred in his hold so it was more comfortable for him, eventually just placing him on his hip as Hermione had done.

"I'm Fred," he introduced, one small hand looping around his neck and the other clutching at the fabric of his t-shirt.

"Tony," he replied, glancing down at the little redhead, his eyes an unnaturally piercing shade of turquoise.

"I'm three."

Tony tipped his head. "Wow, you're practically a big boy."

"I go to the toilet now," he offered proudly, grinning up at him toothily.

"That's awesome," said Tony.

"I like your beard. I like dinosaurs, do you?"

"You kidding? I love dinosaurs," Tony exclaimed, feeling himself relaxing under the toddler's bright stare and grin. "What's your favourite?"

"T-Rex."

"No way, mine too."

"They're big and have lots of teeth. And they have little arms and walk funny. They're so cool. And they make loud noises like... RAWR!"

"Wow, that was loud," Tony agreed.

"What's this?"

Tony lowered his gaze, noting that the toddler was staring at the glowing blue light that shone through the fabric of his t-shirt.

"My arc-reactor. It keeps me safe and healthy."

"Like the little trees?" The redheaded toddler tipped his head, his brow furrowing. "Mummy says that if I eat them I grow up to be big and strong. But I don't like them," he scrunched his nose up in disgust and Tony sniggered. "When Mummy's not looking, I give them to Bubbles, he's all of the yucky food. It's a secret. Shhh."

Tony snorted in amusement. "I won't tell anyone," Tony promised.

"Are you gonna be my Uncle?"

Tony almost had a coughing fit.

"What?!" He spluttered.

"Aunt Mione's sad," his brow furrowed and his lower lip jutted out. "She doesn't have someone to make her happy, like my mummy and daddy."

"That's not true, she's got me."

The toddler looked up at him, Tony having the strange feeling that he was peering into his very soul.

"If you be my Uncle, I think you'll be the best."

Tony cleared his throat. "Dinosaurs, you ever seen one?" He questioned, drawing the child's attention to something else, something less awkward and uncomfortable.

"In books."

"I can do you one better," he promised.

He pulled a chair out from beneath the table and took a seat, Fred moving to sit on his lap before he'd even had the chance to set the child on the surface of the table or on a chair of his own. Somewhat amused, uncomfortable and confused, Tony reached for the tablet he'd left out earlier that morning and within a few moments, a holographic projection covered the entire surface of the table as dinosaurs roamed about.

Tony felt a smile pull at his mouth with an excited gasp fell from the toddler and peering down at him, he noted his wonder-struck expression.

"Look, it's a Stegosaurus!" He cried happily and pointed to it. "And a Triceratops! And a V-V-V-"

"Velociraptor?" Tony supplied.

"Yeah! Look how fast it runs! It runs faster than Daddy flies!"

Tony's eyes snapped to the young child at his words and as he opened his mouth to further question the child, he was interrupted by the return of Hermione and her brother.

"What's all this?"

"Daddy, look! Dinosaurs!" Exclaimed Fred happily.

"I can see that," he replied, his eyes darting between him and Tony curiously, and when Tony stole a glance at Hermione, he noted her carefully blank expression, and she was without her coat, too.

"Aunt Mione! Look, it's a T-Rex! Tony did it for me. He's so cool."

Hermione gave her head a light shake before she looked to the young boy with a smile.

"I'm glad you've had fun, but your father's got to get back to work, so it's home time."

Fred visibly saddened, his shoulders slumping and his lip jutting out as his eyes watered and he sniffled.

"Oh, don't cry, Sweetie," said Hermione softly, moving closer and plucking him from Tony's lap as she held him against her in a hug, the little boy clinging to her as he cried into her neck. "I promise, you can see the dinosaurs again. And when my house is built, you can come and see me, just like we talked about. Remember?"

"When I'm four."

"Exactly, when you're four," she agreed. "That's not too long away."

"I don't want you to go."

"I know, but I have to go. Tony and I have to go back to work, but we'll see each other soon. I promise. Come on, I've got a present hidden for you in my room, let's go and find it."

As Tony watched as Hermione left the room, he stood from the chair, shut down the tablet and stuffed his hands into his pockets, his eyes unintentionally locking with Hermione's brother.

"What are your intentions?"

"Excuse me?" He questioned in surprise at the sudden and unexpected question.

"You heard me," the redhead shrugged, Tony noting that the mischief he'd seen earlier was nowhere to be seen. The serious expression he wore, it didn't suit him, Tony thought.

"I don't know what she's told you..."

"She tells me _everything_ ," he confirmed. "She's been hurt too many times in her life. She hides it, she puts on this front of being unbreakable and unshakable, and whilst she is a strong woman, her armour's been chipped away at over the years and all it will take is one big blow to bring it down and when that happens, I dread to think what'll be left of her. I know her better than anyone, she's the reason I have a wife and son. If it weren't for her helping me through the loss of my twin brother, if it weren't for her refusing to give up on me, I likely wouldn't be stood before you now. The grief would've taken me. I know she's capable of taking care of herself, but that doesn't mean she doesn't need taking care of. And I might not be in New York with her but that doesn't mean I can't protect her from here. And should anything happen to her and it be your doing... I'll make your life a living Hell. I don't know what she's told you yet, but I'm not just the owner of a prank shop. My inventions, they're not something as simple as a whoopee cushion, should I make it so, they can be _incredibly_ dangerous. And with your arc-reactor, well..." He trailed off, his threat unvoiced but very clear.

"You're threatening to kill me? For her?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," he responded calmly.

Tony blinked at that, unsure if he wished to ask for clarification.

"Whilst she's under your employment and under your roof, she's your responsibility."

"I'm not going to let anything hurt her," vowed Tony.

"Good."

"Hey, George, give this scarf to Angie for me, would you? Just tell her it's an early birthday present," Hermione's voice drew their attention as she stepped into the room, a gift bag in one hand whilst Fred perched on her hip, appearing to be in a much better mood as he snacked on a chocolate bar.

"Will do," he nodded, reaching out to take Fred from her and then accepting the gift bag. "Try not to be gone so long this time, yeah?"

"I promise," she agreed, darting a glance to Fred. "In fact, I've plans for Christmas."

"Oh yeah? Care to share?"

"Not yet, it's a surprise, but don't plan anything. Tell your mum, too."

"You know she'll kick up a fuss if Christmas isn't held at the Burrow."

"Tough luck," Hermione shrugged, uncaring. "Every holiday celebration is held at the Burrow and has been since Bill was born. And as much as it's tradition and I love the Burrow, I'm tired of having to fight for a seat at the table and of running out of room. There's too many of us and the Burrow's not big enough to house everyone, not with all the kids, too."

"So that's your plan, having Christmas somewhere else?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Maybe," she admitted. "But don't be telling anyone, it's a surprise, and I've yet to make up my mind."

"Got it. I'll see you at Christmas, please take care of yourself."

"Don't I always?"

"Depends on the situation," he shrugged before closing the distance between them and pulling her into a hug, Fred being squished between them. "I'll see you later, Sugar Momma."

She rolled her eyes but otherwise offered a smile as she rose up onto her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then Fred's before they took their leave towards the lift.

"Sugar Momma?" Tony echoed, turning his eyes to her.

"Don't, he's a pain in my arse and has been calling me it for years," she sighed. "Anyway, how bad was it?"

"How bad was what?"

"George's threat."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he denied.

"Oh, it was _that_ bad, was it?" She winced in sympathy. "Don't worry, I'm he didn't mean it."

"I'm pretty sure he did," he disagreed.

"Ah, so he _did_ threaten you?" She smiled victoriously. "What did he say?"

"The usual," he shrugged.

"Please," she scoffed, "George is anything but normal, but he's not a bad person."

"No, just protective of you," he agreed, "Which is understandable. His kid's adorable."

She beamed. "Ah, my little hero, God do I love the bones of that kid. He melts my heart every time I see him, and soon, he'll have a sister and she'll no doubt own my heart, too. Nice job with the dinosaurs, I don't think I've ever seen him so happy."

"Technology can do wonders," he brushed her off.

"Technology might've made it possible, but it was _your_ thought and initiative to make it happen," she corrected. "You know, he's quite a shy kid."

"He didn't give off that impression."

"He is, hard to believe given his mother's and father's outgoing personalities. And from what I witnessed... I've never seen him interact with someone the way he did with you, his Uncles and family included. You must have some sort of magical power," she teased. "First, Sally and now Fred, what's next, Fury giving you cuddles?"

"That man's heart's colder than the Antarctic," he scoffed.

"Not for much longer," she jabbed him in the ribs as she walked past him and into the living room, sniggering when he batted her hands away.

"Why'd he say the Velociraptor runs faster than his dad flies?"

Hermione paused mid-step before releasing a sigh and continuing on the way to the couch.

"That was the risk of leaving him alone with you," she said to herself. "He doesn't have to hide or censor anything in my community, and he's still too young to do so, anyway."

"You're not going to tell me?"

"Not yet."

"And what's a bludger?"

"It's a type of ball."

"Never heard of it," he shrugged, crossing over to the couch to take a seat beside her. "And a Seeker?"

"A player position in a sports game," she answered, seeing his arched eyebrow, expecting her to explain further. "Without giving too much away too soon, my community is much like yours, everything you have, we do too. Sometimes they are exactly similar and other times they differ as they cater specifically to us. You already know we have a government and education providers, but we also have banks, hospitals, medicine, newspapers, food and drink, music, etc. And sports, we have our own sports league. The sport George was referring to is called Quidditch, in which there are three different balls in play, seven players per team, and four positions. One Keeper, one Seeker, two Beaters and three Chasers. Ginny's actually a professional player, but I know she's thinking of retiring."

"I'm liking this already," he leaned closer, barely batting an eyelash when Sally hopped up onto the couch and draped herself across his lap, his hand moving to bury in her fur.

"Again, without going into too much detail, the game is essentially a combination of basketball, dodgeball and baseball. The Keeper guards the hoops in which three Chasers attempt to pass the Quaffle through. Each successful goal is worth ten points. The two Beaters with the aid of their bats are responsible for protecting the players from the two bludgers, which have been known to cause severe injury, and the Seeker is responsible for searching for and catching the Snitch, a tiny golden ball. That is worth two hundred and fifty points. The game does not end until the snitch is caught, no matter how long may pass. I believe a professional game once lasted three months."

"How is that possible? It doesn't sound to be so difficult."

"That's because you're missing one massive detail of the game, which explains it all."

"And that is?" He pressed.

"Not yet," she snorted at his scowl.

"That was mean, getting my hopes up like that. As compensation, I want to know another of your abilities."

"I'm not sure I can tell you anything else without freaking you out."

"Poppins, you read minds. That's damn impossible. If that didn't freak me out, nothing will."

"I'll hold you to it."

"How'd your brother get up here?"

"One of two ways, he either used something similar to the ring I give you when we're out in public, or..."

"Or?" He prompted.

"I want to say invisibility, but it's more along the lines of extreme camouflage."

Tony's expression was blank for but a moment before he blinked. "Okay," he shrugged.

"Okay?" She echoed in disbelief. "You believe me, just like that without demanding further explanation or evidence?"

"Yeah, I invented the cloaking technology SHIELD now uses," he offered. "If I can do it, it's not impossible to assume someone else has figured it out."

"You're a literal genius," she pointed out.

"It was easy, only took me a month," he said dismissively. "Anyway, I'm hungry, you hungry? Let's order room service," he said, not giving her the opportunity to reply before he stood from the couch, dislodging Sally from his lap and he headed for the nearest phone so he might make the call, before returning to the couch. "So, anything else you can tell me?"

She nibbled her lip in thought, her hand buried in her hair and propping her head up with her elbow sitting on the back of the couch, her nails soothingly scratching at her scalp.

"Well, there are a few things, but they really _will_ freak out. So, let's see," she mused to herself. "Okay, this isn't an ability but it is something I think you'll find interesting."

"Out with it, don't keep me waiting."

She snorted. "Do you believe in the paranormal?"

"What?" He blinked, having not expected such a question. "No, of course I don't. I believe in what I can see."

"You should."

He eyed her strangely. "That movie got to you, didn't it? I knew I shouldn't have let you watch it. If I'd have known you were so impressionable..." He shook his head and sighed.

"Don't be so dramatic," she rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Tony, you should believe, at least, in part."

"And your reasoning?"

"Ghosts exist."

"Okay, that's it, obviously you've banged your head this morning. Where is it? Let's have a look."

She batted his hands away when he made to bury them in her hair and feel her scalp for any lumps and bumps.

"There's nothing wrong with me, stop that," she warned. "Ghosts _are_ real, but they are only capable of manifesting in my community. Ghosts do not exist here, so all of the programmes you see on TV are a load of rubbish. Ghosts are not capable of being detected by EMF readers and the like. They don't possess people and the majority of them don't haunt people or buildings. There are hundreds of ghosts at Hogwarts, them all having died on the grounds and refusing to cross over. My History professor was a ghost. Rumour has it, he died in his sleep and he woke the next day as a ghost and continued with his teaching, we're not entirely certain he's aware he's dead, but he's been teaching at Hogwarts for as long as the other professors can remember. There is a poltergeist, Peeves, who's said to have once been a student who died over a thousand years ago, and he spends his time wreaking havoc on the students with his pranks. Trust me; he's gotten me a few times. And whilst he is a giant pain in the arse, he isn't vicious and he's never harmed anyone."

"Okay, I think _you_ require the trip to the loony bin."

"Tony," she hissed in annoyance. "I'm not winding you up. I have photographs to prove it, they're in storage but when we get back I'll fetch them out and show you."

"You're not kidding? You're genuinely being serious?"

"Yes. I swear on the lives of my Godchildren that I'm not lying."

Tony's eyes widened, knowing how much she adored her Godchildren and that she'd never put them in danger or make such a statement, and that meant she was telling him the truth.

He slumped back into the couch, his usually chaotic mind having grown slow and quiet as he processed the information.

"Right. Ghosts are real," he said to himself. "Mind officially blown."

"Honestly, if this is how you're taking the news, I think you might actually keel over when I tell you everything."

"Nothing is going to surprise me as much learning ghosts exist," he disagreed.

"That's because you don't know what it is I've yet to tell you," she shrugged, her attention being drawn when she heard the lift doors opening. "That was quick," she remarked.

"Good thing, too. I'm starving," said Tony, climbing to his feet and digging into his back pocket to remove his wallet so he might offer a tip, only his attention was drawn when he heard spluttered cough and he looked to Hermione, his gaze following her line of sight until he noted the man stood uncomfortably, not quite in the hallway and not quite in the room.

He was shorter than him by a few inches, his hair dark and messy, strands falling over his forehead and almost concealing an oddly shaped shape. Round glasses perched on his nose with bright green eyes behind the lenses. He wore black trousers that were tucked into combat boots, a white t-shirt and an odd-looking grey jacket with gold buttons, his gaze briefly landing on the strange emblem over the right breast. The same emblem he'd seen on the back of Hermione's coin.

He wasn't entirely certain what it was, but Tony felt an unpleasant feeling settle in his stomach, and Hermione's reaction didn't help matters.

"What the Hell are you doing here?" Hermione demanded, her eyes narrowed coldly and her usually soft features set hard. Tony blinked in surprise. He'd never seen her so mad. "How did you find me?" She rose to her feet, her hands folding over her chest and her shoulders squaring.

At first, Tony thought it was an instinctive defensive gesture, but then he saw her hands clenched into tight fists, her knuckles turning white. She'd done it as an effort to control her anger and keep from punching the guy on the other side of the room.

"Well?!" She snapped coldly, and even Tony flinched in surprise.

The intruder, whoever he was (and Tony had his suspicions) obviously knew Hermione well enough as he took a step backwards. He wasn't sure whether to be amused or not by his cowardice.

"I heard from the nanny that George'd been by to pick up your things," he offered, deliberately widening his stance to keep from shifting beneath her cold gaze. "So, I waited for him to leave the shop and followed him. He didn't make it easy, I guess he suspected he might've been followed."

"You tracked him? That's a serious invasion of privacy, and an offence that could see you being disciplined should it be reported. What were you thinking, you bloody idiot?! Obviously, you weren't, because Merlin forbid Harry Potter has a fucking brain."

Tony blinked, both at the use of her language, knowing that it wasn't often she swore (he could count on one hand the number of times she had) and at having it confirmed that the man before him was the traitorous bastard who hadn't stuck up for her. Tony folded his own arms, feeling the need to defend Hermione and give Potter a bollocking, but knowing she had to stand up for herself. This had been a long time coming.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he offered, rather pathetically in Tony's opinion. "You weren't answering my calls."

"My phone's in the River Thames."

"You weren't answering my owls."

 _Hold on a fucking minute_ , thought Tony. _Owls_?

"Too much foot traffic scares them away and I blocked their access."

"I couldn't find you."

"I blocked all tracking methods. All of this is indicative that I didn't wish to be found."

He sighed and brushed a hand through his hair in agitation.

"I'm sorry."

"For what? Because right now, I've lost count of the number of times you've let me down. Where do we start? When I was twelve and Ron bullied me relentlessly and you stood back and allowed it to happen? He's the reason I was the bathroom that night! Or when he constantly griped at me for Crookshanks having killed his bloody rat, when the thing was still alive? And neither did he apologise afterwards, especially when we discovered what we did and Crookshanks instincts had been right all along! Or the time he stopped talking to me because I agreed to go to the ball with Viktor? I was fifteen and he all but called me a slut, said I wasn't worth much more than a quick shag! The times he copied my homework? Or the times he cheated on me? Where were you? Oh, that's right, always on his fucking side! When I stood by you, when I followed you, supported you when no one else did, believed in you, fought for you! I was willing to die for you. I lost my parents through my association with you. And never once have you taken my side. How could you do that to me?! I was supposed to be your best friend."

Harry's mouth had dropped open, his eyes wide and horrified as Hermione stood before them, tears flowing down her cheeks and despite that, her voice hadn't wavered. She reached up and angrily swiped them away.

"There is nothing you can say to me to ever make up for all the times I needed you and you let me down."

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I... I didn't know."

"Of course you fucking didn't, because you don't think. You never do."

"I promise, I'm going to make it up to you."

"Good luck with that one," Tony scoffed.

"Who the Hell are you?" His eyes snapped to him.

Tony arched a challenging eyebrow. "Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, AKA, Poppins _best friend_. American or otherwise," he shrugged confidently. "And from what I've heard about you, you're a dick that's caused more harm and trouble than you're worth."

"No one asked for your opinion."

"And yet I gave it," he shrugged lazily. "If I didn't think Poppins wouldn't be mad at me, I'd have suited up, carried you outside and dropped your ass to the ground."

"I..." He paused, his brow creasing. "I don't know if you're joking or not."

"Not," he and Hermione chorused unintentionally.

"Leave, Harry. I don't want to see you. We're due to leave within the next hour and we haven't finished packing yet," she lied.

To Tony, it seemed Potter knew when not to argue with Hermione, so perhaps he wasn't entirely stupid.

"Okay, I'll go. But I really am sorry, and I will make it up to you. I don't know how, but I'll find a way. My kids love you too much to lose you."

"Oh, fuck off, Potter," she snapped. "I don't care what happens between us, I'll never let it affect my relationship with the kids. Hugo and Rose should be proof of that. I know how you all look at me with pity because I don't have a partner or children, but I don't need your pity. If I want children, I will have them. If I wish to get married, should I find a man I deem worthy, then I will. My life choices are not a topic for your discussion."

"We're just worried about you."

"You've a funny way of showing it."

"I'll take to everyone, set them straight. Your life is your life, you don't need our input. You'll see an improvement when you next visit, I promise."

"You've made me many promises over the years, I don't believe you."

His expression fell into one of heartbreak and for a small moment, Tony actually felt for the guy. Before he remembered what he'd done, of course, and then it was gone.

"This time is different. I know now that I've let you down and I won't do it again. You'll see. I can only apologise for the past, and show improvement in the future."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

He made as if to step forward in order to approach her but he thought better of it and shuffled awkwardly on his feet.

"I hope you aren't gone for too long this time, we miss 'round here."

"Here hasn't been home for a long time, it's filled with too many bad memories. If it weren't for the children, I wouldn't come back at all."

Harry sighed before tipping his head goodbye and when he made to leave, the lift doors drew open once more. Tony's expression lit up, expecting it to be room service the second time 'round.

It was not room service, and what stepped out of the lift was only going to make things worse.

Loud, angry footsteps were heard approaching and when Tony blinked, a tall redhead stood beside Potter, his eyes a darker shade of blue than George's, and his skin one tone paler with freckles dotted across his cheeks. He wore clothing similar to Potter's, only the jacket was a few shades darker. In his hand he gripped a newspaper, one Tony had already seen that morning, a photo of him and Hermione adorning the front page as they crossed the red carpet at the fundraiser and towards the car that had been waiting for them.

He'd been rather pleased by the sight of her looking truly stunning in her gown, and although she hadn't been mentioned by name, there were several speculations made in the article that accompanied it. Usually, the focus was on him, but that night, she'd been the star and she deserved the attention. He wasn't certain if she'd seen the article or not because she hadn't said anything to him, but he was about to find out.

And if he'd thought he'd had to restrain himself from punching Potter, it was nothing compared to the boiling hatred that curled within him for there was no mistaking who the redhead was.

"You brought him with you!" Hermione hissed, her folded arms dropping down by her sides and he blinked in surprise when he saw her hair poof up. Like a damn cat whose hackles had been raised.

What had she said about that, again? He couldn't remember.

"No, of course, I didn't," Harry shook his head vehemently. "Did you follow me here?" Harry asked of Ron Weasley.

"Yes," he said through gritted teeth, his gaze narrowed on Hermione. "Care to explain this?" He gestured angrily to the newspaper fisted tightly in his hand, Hermione's eyes squinting to see the non-moving photograph of herself and Tony leaving the fundraiser. In fact, there appeared to be a smaller photograph beneath of them leaving the Royal Opera House.

"It's a photograph, Ronald. Now, fuck off, you're not welcome here."

"What? That dress, jewellery. This is why you're putting out, isn't it? Fucking the boss seems to have its perks," he said nastily.

In the blink of an eye, Tony was before Ron and despite the size difference and Tony having to adjust his stance for better leverage, his balled fist collided with Ron's jaw. The redhead stumbled back in surprise, the newspaper falling from his grasp whilst Hermione released a gasp and Harry's eyes widened.

"Say that again, I dare you," Tony's voice was colder than she'd ever heard it, and he stared unflinchingly at Ron as he righted himself, one hand rubbing at his jaw in surprise and the other reaching into his pocket.

"Don't you dare!" Hermione hissed, crossing the room to stand beside Tony. "Don't you dare draw _it_. He's a Muggle, should you break the Statute of Secrecy you'll be in a whole world of bother."

"Who's going to stop me from cursing the bastard," Ron sneered. "You?"

"We both know I'd kick your arse, so don't even try it with me, you fucking prick!" Hermione growled. Actually growled. Like a feral animal. And her hand snaked around Tony's wrist, giving him a slight tug backwards so that he wasn't stood so close to Ron, not trusting the bastard to draw his wand and attack. "And Tony might be a Muggle, but he's no ordinary Muggle."

"Yeah, I've heard he's got money. You always were a galleon digger, weren't you? Krum? Malfoy? Zabini? Higgs?"

"I was the provider in our relationship, not you. How the fuck does that make me a galleon digger? And I was never in a relationship with any of those arseholes, Viktor excluded, because no matter what you thought of him, he was a kind man. And I wasn't referring to his wealth."

"She meant this," Tony interrupted coolly, lifting his right hand (his left now being grasped by Hermione, but she didn't seem to notice) to show the red metal covering that had moulded around his fingers, hand and wrist with a glowing white circle in his palm. "You've two options, you turn around and leave, or, I activate the repulsor and make you."

Ron laughed in his face. "You're fucking nuts, Mate."

"So I am," Tony agreed, "But you should know, I've lost count of the number of people I've killed whilst in this suit. And trust me, I wouldn't lose sleep over adding you to the list."

"It won't work," Hermione said before Ron could draw his wand. "Shielding won't work. Whilst it might prevent injury from the blast itself, the sheer force or the energy emittance will knock you off your feet, you'll collide with the lift doors behind you and the force might actually break your back. Don't mess with him, Ronald. He is _not_ bluffing."

"I'm not scared of _him_."

"You should be," said Tony.

"Enough!"

Hermione actually blinked in surprise to see Harry's cheeks tinted pink, his expression dark and his gaze narrowed behind his glasses.

"Leave, Ron. Hermione doesn't deserve this treatment from you, and she never has. I never realised all of the pain and stress you put her through, not until recently, and I should've been there for her, not for you. You were my first friend and your family were kind to me, I didn't want to lose that and I let it cloud my judgement. It doesn't matter anymore, I don't need your friendship so if I should lose it by protecting Hermione from you, then that's fine by me. She's right. You are a drunk arsehole, and when I get back to the office, I'm reporting your insubordination to Kingsley. If you don't leave now and leave Hermione alone in the process, I'll make sure that you'll lose your Auror badge and never work in Law Enforcement again... Do it, draw it, I dare you. Not only will I be reporting you for breaking the Statute of Secrecy, but for assault on a superior officer. That's something that comes with time served in Azkaban."

Ron's face reddened to the point it almost matched his hair, his gaze spitting daggers as it swung between Hermione, Harry, and Tony with his hand still raised and directed towards him.

"You're not worth it," he sneered at her. "I don't know what I ever saw in you."

"The feeling's mutual, you disgusting pig. And I'm going to be sending a little note to Laura about you cheating on her. That's right, George saw you. Now, get out."

With a final sneer, he turned on his heel and stormed towards the lift, Harry releasing a ragged sigh.

"I better go and make sure he leaves the hotel," he said. "I meant what I said, 'Mione. I'll make it up to you. You deserve better, from him, from me, from everyone. I love you, please don't be gone for so long this time," and with that, he turned and took his leave.

Once the lift doors closed, Tony's hand lowered and he turned his body towards Hermione, seeing her bowed head and the tears leaking from her eyes.

"Hey," he called softly, both of his hands moving to hold the back of her neck and lifting her head so their gazes locked, her eyes shining and lashes wet with tears. "You did it. You confronted them both and I've never been prouder."

She gave a sniffle. "Is it bad that I _wanted_ you to blast him?"

"No," his mouth twitched. "In fact, should we call the asshole back or just follow him? I don't mind getting caught on camera doing it, it'd make a nice reminder. We can even get it framed, place it front and centre in the penthouse."

She gave a sniffle laugh. "Where did that even come from?" She asked, her eyes moving to the red armour that still adorned his right hand and was cool against her skin.

"You know, I can't remember," he responded with a shrug, his eyes searching her expression before they landed on her throat, feeling his mouth twitch when he saw the little dove resting beneath the hollow of her throat. 

"And what did I say about putting distance between us should my hair poof up?"

"Couldn't remember that either," he shrugged.

"Tony, that was dangerous, I wouldn't forgive myself if I hurt you, accident or otherwise. Even people like me that have been stood too close during one of my 'episodes' have been known to receive a shock."

"I couldn't remember," he repeated, "But it doesn't matter, they're both gone now. Not gonna lie, Potter surprised me at the end."

"Yeah, me too, I never thought he'd stand up to Ron like that," her brow furrowed. "But I'm glad they're gone now, I just want to go home."

"Just a few more hours, and we'll be on the jet before you know it."

"Fabulous, can't wait," she grumbled and he snorted, his hands releasing her before he tugged her into a hug, his chin setting atop her head as she gave another sniffle.

When the lift drew open, they both turned their eyes to the hallway, being wary of who was about to step into view given their recent visitors.

"Thank fuck!" Tony sighed, seeing the cart that was being pushed into the room. "I'm starving!" He exclaimed, his mouth twitching at Hermione's soft, sniffly giggle.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 19

They were due to leave soon and Tony knew they both had a couple of items that needed to be packed away before they left for the airport, but he couldn't bring himself to disturb her. Not when she was clearly comfortable being where she was, not when she looked so peaceful and young, not when he didn't want to let her go, always enjoying it when she snuggled against him.

After the arrival of room service, they'd both taken a seat at the dining table and ate the ordered food, something that may have not been on the menu but Tony wished to see if they'd make it anyway, and of course, still wishing to get on his good side, they had without complaint.

Once they'd finished with their lunch they'd moved to the couch, Tony switching on the TV and searching the channels available, settling on a random TV programme he'd never heard of or seen before. He'd only turned the TV on to offer a distraction, a little background noise. Within half an hour, Hermione was curled into his side, her feet tucked beneath her, her arms folded around her torso and her cheek pressed against chest, her eyes closed as soft breaths left her slightly parted lips.

He didn't blame her for having fallen asleep. For one, daytime TV was completely boring and two, she'd been emotionally drained in as little as thirty minutes with the incident of her ex-boyfriend and so-called best friend showing up unannounced.

Tony had been completely serious about dropping Potter from the rooftop and he absolutely wouldn't have minded chasing after the red-head and blasting him with his repulsor until he'd gone through a window or collided with a wall. They were both assholes, one more than the other, but part of him was curious to see how Potter would gain Hermione's trust once more after his favouring of someone else for over a decade.

Part of him wanted Potter to fail, too. Irrationally, and if he was honest with himself, part of him was a little worried that should the raven-haired man succeed, Hermione would no longer consider him her best friend and that she'd be easily convinced to move back to London. He didn't want to lose her or her friendship. She was important to him, incredibly so. In such a short amount of time, she'd burrowed her way into his life. Well, it was partially his fault, he conceded. He'd gotten his hands on her personnel file and been too curious and stubborn to let it go and he'd made it a point to get her under his employment, regardless of the fact he didn't have the foggiest what it was that she did for SHIELD. Being brought into his life was his doing, but he hadn't expected her to entwine herself so effortlessly into his private, persona life.

He hadn't expected her to show up with cheeseburgers, board games, (and he was positive she always cheated at poker, how else did she beat him at almost every hand?) her home-cooked meals and baking filling his stomach until he was certain he was going to burst, and her damn cat, too. The same damn cat that had wormed her way into his heart and refused to release her hold on him. The same damn cat he was certain wasn't actually a cat at all. He _hated_ cats, always had, and he willingly let the little white fluff-ball bully him for the food on his plate or in his hand, wander the Tower sporting a bandana that bore his name, and sleep wherever she wished, even if it was on his highly expensive, custom made, one of a kind couch.

Hermione, despite having mysterious secrets he was dying for her to hurry up and share with him, was like an open book. He'd gotten to know her so well, being in such close quarters both with work and living arrangements, that with a single glance in her direction he knew her mood. When entering her lab to check up on her or bring her food, (if she'd forgotten to eat that day and it was his turn to remind them both) he'd always take a moment to observe her closely before he made his presence known, identifying her mood so he knew how best to behave, and how he might improve her day should she be upset or be having a bad day.

Frustration was given away by the wildness of her hair, larger and bushier than usual. Irritation was shown by the way she tapped a pen against a desk, her chin, her palm or her thigh. Loss and confusion were identifiable in the way she sat or stood with her shoulders slumped, her mouth tugging down at the corners, her gaze locked on the floor or desk surface. Excitement and joy could be seen in the way she flittered about her lab like an animated bee, never stopping for more than a second or two, or the way her eyes were bright, wide and open, her teeth sinking into her lower lip to fight off a smile whilst she worked at one of the cauldrons or her hand flew across a sheet of paper, jotting down notes and results.

And when she turned those eyes on him, her smile lighting up the room in her excitement to share with him the progress she was making, even if she didn't give any specific details, he always felt lighter. Less tired, annoyed, burdened, whatever mood he was in that day or if his own projects were proving to be tricky, her radiance was a balm to soothe him. It was contagious.

She was calming, he'd come to realise. Even when she was in a bit of a mood herself, when she sprawled on the couch, clearly unhappy with something that had happened in the news, with the way she disagreed with the ending of a movie, TV programme or whatever book she was reading. It didn't matter if she was angry, upset, annoyed, happy; there was always a calming, comforting presence that accompanied her. And she was never alone, Sally either being draped over his lap and demanding attention, or quietly snoozing between them. They were a package deal; one couldn't be had without the other.

Their relationship was odd. He knew it was. It was neither friendship nor romantic, but somewhere in the middle. And as the days passed, as he found himself looking forward to seeing her after a day hidden away in his lab or after returning from business trips he couldn't put off any longer than he already had, he found himself wishing that their relationship tilted more in favour of the latter.

But he had to ask himself. Was he ready for that? Was he ready to be in a relationship?

He and Pepper had broken up months ago, long before Hermione had arrived in his life, and it hadn't been that long of a relationship either, five months at most. But if he were honest, they should've never crossed that line. He and Pepper weren't a good match; she never understood his need to be Iron Man, the only time they spoke was when she was nagging him to answer her emails and calls, or chewing him out for cancelling a meeting or turning down a business deal she believed would do wonders for the company. He'd made her CEO regardless of their relationship because she worked hard, she could handle herself and take control of a testosterone-filled boardroom effortlessly and she knew what she was doing.

But she hadn't just been managing and running the company for him, (even if he was still the boss, more or less, just in the background and content to let her get on with it unless she wished to do something he disagreed with and then he put his foot down) she'd been trying to run his _life_ for him. And after being deceived for so long by someone he thought he could trust, after being captured and tortured and held prisoner, told what to do and when to do it, he hadn't wanted to give up control. She'd been unknowingly suffocating him, or at least, he hoped she'd been doing it unknowingly. She was always telling him where to go and what to do, what to eat and not eat, what to wear, telling him not to drink and that he should give up being Iron Man because it was too dangerous. Pepper liked control and Tony didn't like being controlled. They were mismatched, always had been. Their breakup, despite taking Pepper by surprise, had been amicable and from what he'd heard on the grapevine, she was dating again. Pepper needed a man that was content to be the submissive one in the relationship, and Tony was far from it.

And Hermione? In some ways he could admit that she was like Pepper; they were both bad-ass women that worked hard and achieved high in fields dominated by men and neither cared for others' opinions nor let anyone get to them. They were both strong-willed and stubborn, both clever in different ways. Pepper had a head for business and a keen eye for detail, Hermione was just all-around smart with her numerous Masters and medical licence. And not only that, but there was a type of wisdom that came with Hermione, the type that led tale to the fact that she'd seen terror and horror. That she'd faced the monsters of the world just as he had.

Both were beautiful. Pepper with her red hair always perfectly styled, her makeup minimal but effective, her tall, slim frame always smartly and appropriately dressed in business attire and expensive heels, with costly perfume coating her wrists and neck. She was nearing her fortieth birthday and whilst she did have the lines around her mouth, and crow's feet by her pear-green eyes, there were no other indications of her true age. Her nose was straight, her skin blemish-free and her jawline defined.

Hermione was the opposite. There was a soft, natural beauty that surrounded her, one that was easy to overlook. She was the girl next door type...Until she slipped into a dress, Tony corrected himself. When she dressed to the nines she was an absolute stunner, drawing all eyes to her without realising she was doing so. Tony had seen her in all manner of dress whether it be the jeans and t-shirts she favoured, her lab coat and goggles that were adorably too big for her but she never bothered to purchase a smaller size, the ugliest cardigan or sweater he'd ever seen or pyjamas that were threadbare and ready to be thrown away. She hardly ever makeup, believing it to be bad for the skin and she didn't wish to waste time applying mascara or concealer when she could be using those extra minutes in her lab.

Her hair was wild and hard to tame, more often than not tied back from her face in a ponytail, messy bun or if it were a bad day, just left to its own devices hanging down her back and spilling over her shoulders, not wishing to make it worse by brushing it. The mahogany colouring when caught by rays of sunlight tinted red and purple, the curls looking smooth and soft despite the unruliness of it all. Her eyes were doe-like, pools of molten chocolate, bright when excited or happy, narrowed when annoyed at him, dull when she was upset. Her little button nose twitched when she wished to laugh at him but fought it off, not wishing to give him the satisfaction, especially if he was subtly insulting someone or he'd said something she didn't agree with. Her teeth sunk into her pink plump bottom lip when she was lost in thought, reading or trying to stop herself from arguing with him no matter how much he baited her. He knew her ivory skin wasn't as perfect as it first appeared, having seen the scars that she usually hid with her clothing, and there was a story behind those scars, he knew and he intended to find out.

But the differences between the two women weren't just physical but behavioural, also. There was a fine line, but Hermione knew when and when not to cross it, Pepper hadn't. She did tell him what to eat and what not eat, but it was mostly advice, making fun of his less than healthy diet (which she shared, he might add), and as a doctor, he knew she was worried about his cholesterol given the amount of red meat he ate. He suspected it was why her home-cooked meals were always healthy, to help balance out all the takeout and junk food they ate. She did tell him when to eat, but he did the same to her. If he missed a meal, it was Hermione that brought the food or dragged him away from his workstation long enough to keep him hydrated and functioning, and if she missed a meal, it was him that did the same.

They were both alike in the way they got caught up and deeply invested in their work so much so that they were oblivious to the things around them, that they forgot to sleep and they missed meals. When they did get like that, as there were days when neither of them remembered, Jarvis always stepped in and brought them back to reality and each other. Hermione was less controlling and nagging and more... Reminding. She pushed, she nudged, but she stopped before it was too much. It was almost as if she knew his boundaries without him having to tell her, and that was another thing. She understood him. More than anyone ever had.

Pepper had discouraged his Iron Man alter ego out of fear of injury and danger, out of fear it might affect the company's image and profits, and whilst he wasn't entirely certain on Hermione's opinion regarding the matter, she was always asking curious questions about the mechanics and mechanisms of his suit and he always enjoyed discussing it with her into the early hours of the morning until she fell asleep on the couch.

Hermione wasn't one for going out, hitting the town or dancing the night away, he'd come to learn. She preferred to stay in, watch crappy movies on TV, destroy him at every card game he knew and board game she owned, (and there were a lot!) and with the occasional glass of wine, it wasn't often she drank alcohol. In fact, being in London was the most he'd seen her drink but that was understandable given the week she'd had.

Pepper was the opposite. She enjoyed shaking off her CEO image and going out to a club for a night of drinking and dancing with her friends, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with that, in fact, Tony encouraged it, believing the red-head deserved the opportunity to let her hair down and have a little fun.

He knew he had a drinking and sex problem, something that had gotten better since he'd started a relationship with Pepper, for the latter at least, and he didn't drink as often as he used to, or as badly, he corrected himself. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been drunk. Since before Hermione arrived in his life? Yes, he'd been tipsy, they both had, but they'd never gotten to the point where they woke with hangovers and couldn't remember the happenings of the night before.

He was getting older, he hated to admit. He would be turning forty-one in the coming month of May. He was getting too old to be out partying all night, to be making his way through the young, pretty women of New York, to not be focusing on his future. Financially, he was set for life, but what would happen to the money, to his company and to his legacy if he had no one to pass it on to? If he had no one to share it with?

He'd been thinking about it since his breakup with Pepper, realising that unless he committed himself to someone, unless he changed his bad habits and ways, he would die alone and he'd never have a family. He'd never thought of having kids, he'd always just assumed that one day it would happen, that it would be expected of him, and here he was, a forty-year-old single man with no kids or wife, not even kids that hated him, or a wife that was demanding a divorce and taking half of his assets.

He didn't want to be alone anymore; he was growing, warming to the idea of one day having a little genius kid running around, taking apart a toaster and remodelling it into some kind of heat-ray weapon. Or a teenager that flunked all of their classes because they were boring and unchallenging of their brilliant mind, and instead spent their time designing new technology that would better the world. He didn't care if it was a boy or a girl. He didn't care if the kid looked like him or their mother. He didn't even care if the kid grew to hate him just as he had his own father. He just wanted someone to carry on the legacy. He just wanted to create something _good_ , opposed to the all the bad he'd done in his life.

He was getting older, he conducted dangerous experiments and risked his life every time he put on the Iron Man suit, no matter if he were tracking down terrorists that had gotten their hands on his old weaponry systems or if he was flying across the world to aid with a natural disaster. Each day that went by was a day lost of his life span.

Looking down at Hermione, her expression peaceful, her hair falling into her face and being disturbed by the breath that fell past her parted lips, he felt his stomach give a little flip and warmth settling inside his chest.

She was quite the woman. The type of woman a man such as himself could only dream of marrying. The type of woman that could handle his chaotic mess of a life. The type of woman that would love and adore any child, born from her or not. He'd seen it. He'd seen the way she interacted with her Godson, seen the way she'd looked at him as if he were one of the most important things in her life. She loved the kid like he was her own. And he knew she felt the same for the others, whether they were her Godchildren or her nieces and nephews, none of them of her blood.

Hermione was the type of woman to love and support, to encourage and bolster, and whilst she had the potential to nag and frustrate and annoy, and she did sometimes, too, he liked it. He liked the fire he saw burning inside her. He'd gotten a glimpse of her temper and whilst she'd been frightening, it was almost as if she'd come to life with the way her hair poofed up and her eyes darkened with anger but brightened with fire. That temper could and would fuel many arguments, but he was sure the passion would fuel the makeup and love.

 _Love_? He paused, his brows drawing together. _Could_ he love her? _Did_ he love her? He thought. Well, that was easy. She was the type of woman anyone would be lucky to have. But _should_ he love her? His life was a chaotic, dangerous mess and she'd obviously been through so much in her life, was it right that he ask her to deal with his shit, too? Was it selfish of him?

He'd seen it. No matter what she'd said to Weasley and Potter, or what she'd said when she'd come to him crying, he'd seen right through her. She was just as lonely as he was. She wanted a family, she wanted a partner and she wanted a home. She was still young enough to have that; she was only thirty-two, looking to be no older than her twenties, early-twenties when she was sleeping. She still had time to find someone and when the condo was built and she moved out...

No, he didn't want to think of that, he gave his head a shake. He liked having her at the Tower. He liked it when she dragged him away from his work and placed a meal before, home-cooked or takeout, he wasn't fussy but he would admit he was leaning more in favour of her home-cooked meals as the days passed. He liked it when they argued over board and card games, over what they would be having for dinner, over whose turn it was to pick the movie they were to watch. He liked when she'd get comfortable on the couch, a cushion beneath her head, a blanket draped over her and her feet in his lap whilst she read her book and his eyes were locked on the tablet held in his hand, trying to work out an issue he was struggling to solve.

He liked it when she fell asleep, cuddled against his side, when she threatened to prank him worse than the time she turned him blue because he was annoying her. He liked that the Tower wasn't empty. He liked that it always smelt like freshly baked cookies. Even when they were silent, there was still the sound of her breathing, of the pages in her book turning, of Sally snoring so loudly she startled herself awake with a yowl and he and Hermione would burst into laughter.

She was a good, kind person inside and out. She was reliable, dependable, trustworthy. And he did trust her, with his life. She was a workaholic, just as he was, but since he'd barred her from her lab on weekends, she was learning to relax, to be a little less serious. He knew she was comfortable around him, she wore what she wanted no matter how unflattering or ugly the clothing, she ate what she wanted and when she wanted, she didn't care for her appearance but she was always clean and presentable. She wasn't afraid to argue with him no matter the topic, she wasn't afraid to throw cushions at him when he wouldn't leave her alone, or to throw books his way and calling him an 'uncultured swine' because he insulted a classic piece of literature by calling it 'mind-numbingly boring' and 'a good waste of paper' so he might get a rise out of her.

She'd even thrown an orange at his head, demanding that he eat more fruit and think of his cholesterol. Thankfully, it'd been a nice ripe orange and she'd been far enough away that when it collided with the back of his head (him refusing to acknowledge her, knowing how mad it made her and he did enjoy provoking her, and if he had lifted his head, he'd have been able to catch it) it hadn't hurt all the much. He'd made a visit to her lab and thrown a banana at her in retaliation, inquiring about her frustration. His choice of fruit allowed her to read between the lines and after offering up his services as a solution, he'd ran for his life. Faster than he ever had before.

She'd been on the warpath that day, he'd hidden away for hours at Happy's apartment (his bodyguard thoroughly entertained by the notion he was literately hiding for his continued survival whilst he refused to share the peanut butter cookies Hermione had baked for him in the process) and he'd been wary of returning to the Tower. When he did, he arrived with a cheesecake and red velvet cake as a peace offering. She'd narrowed her eyes, pointed her finger threateningly, slapped his arm with the back of her hand and took both offerings, turning her back to him and stalking to the kitchen to retrieve a fork.

She'd assumed he'd been joking. At the time, so had he. But it wasn't until their arrival in London that he truly understood part of him had meant it.

It was in London that he realised his growing feelings for her. It was in London that he realised he wanted her as more than a friend.

But Hermione deserved the best. She deserved a relationship. Someone to love her, to care for her, to comfort her and fight off the tears and sadness. To contribute to her happiness, to help her see herself for how beautiful she was, to be less self-deprecating, but being British, he supposed that was a lost cause. Brits were known for such traits.

He knew she wanted a family, whether she admitted it or not. He knew he didn't want to be alone and that he was getting older, his time was running out. Could he be what she wanted? Could she be what he needed?

He hoped so.

~000~000~000~

Hearing the ding of the elevator and slow, measured footsteps, Tony was slow to rouse himself awake and lift his head from resting atop Hermione's. He believed it to be Happy, the man finally finished playing tourist and that meant they could be on the road within the hour and on their way to the airport. As much as Tony had enjoyed his time with Hermione in London, for the most part uninterrupted, he wanted to get back to the Tower and in his lab as much as she did.

As the footsteps grew louder and closer, he noted there was something off about the sound. They weren't as heavy for a man of Happy's size.

Reluctantly, Tony let his eyes open, it taking all but a second for the grogginess to fade as his eyes narrowed on the man stood in-between the hall and lounge, his own eyes wide and mouth parted in surprise. Despite Tony's surprise with his appearance, he was careful to remain still, not wishing to jolt or wake Hermione.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, his voice was quiet but that didn't take from the clear unfriendly tone he'd pushed into it.

The raven-haired man shifted on his feet, closed his mouth and cleared his throat.

"I could ask you the same thing," he replied defensively, folding his arms over his chest. "You should've left hours ago."

"She lied about our departure time. She didn't want to talk to you."

He saw his expression falter before he gave his head a shake.

"Yeah, I got that," he sighed sadly.

"What are you doing here?" Tony repeated.

"Just..." He paused, his eyes scanning his surroundings carefully, "Checking things over."

"For?" He prompted, arching an eyebrow.

"In case Ron left something unfriendly behind," he offered guiltily. "It wouldn't be the first time. Hermione's usually wise to it, but I didn't want to risk a staff member or another guest finding a nasty surprise or walking into a trap."

"Has he?" Tony's brow furrowed, his gaze darting down to Hermione's sleeping face in concern.

"Two, I've dismantled them," Potter confirmed. "I'm not sensing anything else."

Tony felt his mouth twitch into a sneer. He should've blasted the bastard. Maybe he still could. Now that Weasley had been seen, he could have Jarvis hack into the hotel security cameras, find an angle that allowed for perfect facial recognition and have Jarvis track Weasley's movements since leaving. It might lead him straight to him. It might not. It was worth a try, he decided, and he made a mental note to ask Jarvis before they left.

"Then you can leave. We should be leaving within the hour," said Tony. Potter gave him a disbelieving glance. "No, I'm not lying this time."

Hermione made a noise in her sleep and shifted slightly, snuggling closer to him, not that it was possible mind. He stilled, not wishing to rouse her from sleep and he relaxed when she calmed.

"Are you sleeping with her?"

"Excuse me?!" Tony snapped, holding in a wince when it came out louder than he'd wished it to, luckily Hermione didn't move.

"Are you sleeping with her?" Potter repeated calmly, his expression carefully blank.

"That is none of your business or concern, as Poppins has pointed out before. But, no, I am _not_ sleeping with her. Now, get out."

Potter was apparently stupid, for he did not budge.

"Do you want to?"

"That's none of your business."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"You're skating on thin ice, Potter," Tony warned, his tone dangerously low. "Do not test my patience, I don't care who you are, I won't hesitate to teach you some manners. Stop prying into her life and leave before you wake her. I don't want her disturbed."

Potter tilted his head, carefully examining their positioning, noting that they were both comfortable around each other, nothing that this obviously wasn't the first time they'd fallen asleep on a couch, snuggled together. His eyes moved lower, widening slightly when they landed on the white fluff-ball partially draped over his lap, sleeping contently.

"Sally," he spoke in little above a whisper. "She _likes_ you?" A slight squeak broke through.

Despite his annoyance that the man wouldn't leave, despite the fact he was losing his patience and he was close to getting up from the couch and physically launching him out of the window, which would wake Hermione and that was something he didn't wish to do when she was so peaceful, he felt his mouth twitch into a smug smirk. The cat didn't like anyone but Hermione and him.

" _Loves_ me, Potter," he corrected. "Now, get out."

Potter nodded slowly and turned his back to leave but he paused, peering at him over his shoulder.

"Don't hurt her."

"Like you give a fuck," Tony scoffed. "You watched for years as he ex emotionally and mentally abused her, badgered her into marrying him when she wasn't ready, as he betrayed her in every way possible. Why the fuck do you suddenly care now, hmmm? Why is it okay for you to warn a stranger off but not your friend?" Tony saw him flinch. "You have no right to pretend to be her protector. She's already got one. _Me_. Now, fuck off."

He saw the way his expression hardened, his face fell in sadness and then he sighed in defeat.

"Yeah, you're right, I did that," Potter agreed quietly. "I should've been there for her, and she doesn't need me to protect her, not when she's obviously got you, no matter your relationship. I _will_ make it up to her. Just, keep an eye on her for me? Please? I might not have treated her as she deserved, I might've been a prat, but she's my sister and I love her, even if I didn't show it."

"I'm not gonna let anyone hurt her, especially you."

"That's fair," Potter nodded. "I understand that you don't like me..."

"Understatement of the year," Tony interrupted. "I've met politicians and terrorists I've hated less than you."

Potter shot him an annoyed glance, both for his comment and his interrupting him.

"Hermione's a carer, a mother hen, always has been, ever since I've known her, really. She takes care of everyone around her and she forgets to take care of herself. Just keep an eye on her. Her kindness and good heart have gotten her into a lot of trouble in the past," Potter revealed, his mouth twitching fondly. "Just make sure no one takes advantage of that because sometimes, she can't see when something or someone's bad for her."

And with that, Potter took his leave after a final glance to Hermione's sleeping face. Tony remained silent for several moments, listening for both Potter leaving and for a change in Hermione's breathing, wondering if she was truly sleeping or if she'd been pretending as she didn't wish to deal with Potter again, and Tony wouldn't blame her. But as the minutes ticked away and there was no change, he concluded she hadn't been woken and Tony wasn't certain how given that the conversation hadn't been all the quiet no matter his attempts. Perhaps she truly was exhausted.

When his phone vibrated on the coffee table, Tony carefully leaned forward and plucked it from the surface, his eyes scanning the message on the screen before he quickly shot off a reply. Once done, he looked down to Hermione once more, he regretfully woke her, Hermione making a sleepy noise of protest before her eyes slowly fluttered open, her eyelashes brushing her high cheekbones as she blinked away the grogginess and she offered a sleepy smile as she peered up at him.

Tony decided he could get very used to that smile.

"What is it?"She said through a yawn that she muffled with her hand.

"Happy should be here within fifteen minutes, we can load the car up and be on our way within the hour."

She sighed, stretching her arms out before her and then she slumped against him, making no move to get up. "We're going to McDonald's, aren't we?" She said knowingly.

"Obviously, I haven't had a cheeseburger since we arrived. I'm going through withdrawals."

"But that means we've got to drive past the airport and then double back on ourselves. Honestly, why don't you just have Jarvis pull up the branch number, phone and place an order and have someone deliver it to the airport? They're not going to say no, are they? What with it being you and all. It'll save us the time."

"I never thought of that," he admitted. "Why didn't I think of that?" His brow furrowed and lips pursed.

She rolled her eyes. "Because it was simple?" She offered.

"The food'll be cold."

"Maybe," she shrugged, "They'll likely wrap it up in one of those heat insulated bags delivery drivers have. And even if it is cold, I've seen you eat cheeseburgers hours after you've ordered them and there's a microwave on the jet if you wish to warm it up. If you have an issue with calling the branch, I'll see about calling the nearest taxi rink and bribe them to pick up the order and bring it to the airport. If the taxi has heated seats, even better. They can whack up the heating and keep the food warm."

"Honestly," he rolled his eyes.

"What? I want to get home as soon as possible, and going to McDonald's put an hour delay on our journey before we even get on the jet," she argued.

Tony felt his expression soften. He couldn't lie, he always enjoyed it when she referred to the Tower as her 'home'.

"Fine, we'll do that," he acquiesced. "You best make sure you've got everything packed away, we haven't got long."

"I'll go do that now."

~000~000~000~

"I've a question," said Hermione.

After arriving at the airport to find Tony's cheeseburgers waiting for him, payment and a generous tip had been given to the surprised taxi driver who'd barely stuttered out a request that Tony take a photo with him. Never one to miss a photo op, he'd agreed without a thought, having Hermione snapping several photos on the twenty-something driver's flip phone before he took his leave and they boarded the jet.

Tony had multitasked calming Hermione down, annoying her to distraction and eating his cheeseburgers during the jet's takeoff. Once Sally had been released from her carrier and she made herself comfortable on the couch, Hermione, still feeling worn out had gone to the bedroom, kicked off her shoes and made herself comfortable, but sleep wouldn't claim her.

A little over halfway through their flight, Tony had joined her, citing that he was bored out of his mind and he switched on the TV opposite the bed, selected a random movie and made himself comfortable beside her. Sally had soon joined them, the feline being asleep on the foot of the bed, sprawled out with her front and back legs stretched so wide they almost reached either side of the bed's edge.

"Hmm?" Tony hummed distractedly, his eyes on the tablet held in his hand.

"Earlier today, you said muggles were called such because they didn't have 'magic'," she reminded. "Why did you choose that word, in particular?"

"Seemed fitting," Tony shrugged. "It's boring when you refer to it as 'abilities', even if that's what it is. Magic sounds a lot cooler, and it rolls off the tongue easier."

Hermione hummed thoughtfully in response, the movie that was playing long since forgotten by both of them. It was just background noise.

"And do you believe in magic? Do you think it's real?"

"'Course not," Tony snorted. "There's no such thing."

Hermione felt her mouth twitch. "You're in for a surprise," she remarked. "There are plenty of things hidden in the universe that aren't thought to exist or be real, when in fact they are and they do."

"Meaning?" Tony prompted, setting the tablet beside him on the mattress and then turning to look at her.

Whilst she was laid flat on her back with her hands folded on her stomach, her knees bent and feet on the bed, Tony sat with his back propped up by pillows, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles.

"Exactly that."

"Is there something you wish to tell me?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Not yet, you're not ready."

"I am," he protested.

"You're not," she promised with a slight shrug.

Tony rolled his eyes. "I've got a few questions for you."

"Don't you always?" She looked to him amused.

"What's a galleon? Weasley called you a 'galleon digger'? It's quite obviously an insult, and one I assume is similar to a gold digger."

"Then you would be correct. My people have our own monetary system and currency. Where you have dollars, dimes and quarters, and Britain has pounds and pence, we have galleons, sickles and knuts."

"What's the exchange? The equivalent?" He asked curiously.

"US or UK?"

"Either, both," he shrugged.

"Well, there are 17 sickles in a galleon, and 29 knuts in a sickle. The last time I checked, 1 galleon was equivalent to $4.81 or just over £3.00."

"And is this used universally throughout your community?"

"France has their own currency known as benzants and the US has dragots and sprinks, however, all countries, continents and cities will accept galleons, sickles and knuts as it is the most universally used currency, which means there's never any need for a currency exchange before travelling which is a plus, and, we don't have to learn how to correctly use a different currency."

"That's interesting," he mused. "And what's an Auror badge? Potter said Weasley would lose his."

"An Auror works in law enforcement, police officers."

"You're telling me that asshole's a _cop_?" Tony questioned in disbelief.

"Certainly am," she nodded. "Not a very good one from what I've been hearing, either. He keeps going the way he is, and he'll be kicked out of the Auror Corps, if not for his behaviour then for his drinking. He's dangerously close to tipping into alcoholism territory. I'd offer help if he wasn't such an arsehole and I didn't think he'd throw it back in my face."

"You should've let me go after him," Tony grumbled, thinking on what Potter had said about the bastard booby-trapping the penthouse.

He was warring with whether he should tell Hermione or not, but if he admitted that Potter had shown up she'd want to know what'd happened and he wasn't certain he was ready to reveal the details yet. And if he did tell her, he assumed she'd be upset and he didn't like seeing her unhappy, it was best to just leave it for the time being.

"Wouldn't be good for publicity."

Tony snorted; she wasn't bothered about the harm it would cause Weasley, just the way it might affect his public image. That was his girl, he thought proudly.

"I'm Iron Man, everyone loves me."

"Fury hates you," she deadpanned.

"Doesn't count."

"So does most of New York's politicians, I remember reading about a very public court debate regarding your suit and the dangers it posed for others trying to replicate your technology."

"Doesn't count."

"I'm pretty sure terrorists hate you, too."

"Terrorists hate everyone. That's why they're terrorists."

"And weren't you banned from the Flower Drum? And that's why we had to find another Chinese restaurant to order from."

"I'm really beginning to dislike you," Tony scowled.

She smiled up at him. "Tough luck, I'm your roommate, you're stuck with me."

That wasn't such a bad thing, thought Tony.

"What's Azkaban?"

"You're like a damn sponge," Hermione remarked, bring note to the fact that Tony had obviously heard their conversations but he'd also seemed to have memorised it and was picking out keywords that didn't fit into the world he knew.

"Genius," he pointed to himself.

"Azkaban is a prison. A heavily guarded fortress on an island in the centre of the North Sea, where our community's most terrifying convicts are carted off to, usually for life sentences."

"I've flown over the North Sea before and never seen anything."

"Hidden from muggles," she offered with a shrug. "Something similar to the ring I've been giving you only it's much more advanced."

"Final question for the day," Tony began and Hermione snorted, not believing him. "What's _it_? You kept telling Weasley not to draw _it_?"

Tony observed her expression carefully; the way her nose crinkled, her forehead creased and her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, obviously deciding on her answer and choosing her words carefully. Had he gotten too close for comfort? Whatever 'it' was, would it reveal all of Hermione's secrets and would everything finally make sense?

"It's a... Conductor."

"Conductor?" Tony arched an eyebrow.

"Yes, you know, something to help with the flow of power? But not only that, it aids with control."

"Of?" He prompted.

"Our abilities. You see, our abilities can be used without the need for words, since most of the time there's an... Activation code. And they can be used without our... Conductors, but it's incredibly difficult and requires great focus, power and continuous practice and exercise, especially if doing both at the same time. Children have outbursts, our abilities being effected by our emotions but once they turn eleven, they head off to Hogwarts to learn to control them, as I'm sure you've figured out already. Hogwarts is a school for people like me, with abilities and that's why you've never heard of it, and it's why you'll never be able to see or find it. It's protected and hidden from muggles. Children are given their... Conductors, just before they start school, and that stops the outbursts and controls their abilities."

"Do you have one? A _conductor_?"

"Yes, I always have it with me. It's an unwritten rule that we carry it with us at all times, without out, we're pretty much defenceless unless we know how to use our abilities without it."

"Can I see it?"

"No. It's hidden in a place I generally don't tend to show the public."

Tony's eyes flashed, his mouth twitching into a smirk as he shifted onto his side to face her, his arm settling on the pillows as he propped his head up with the palm of his hand.

"Can I see it?" He repeated.

"No. You most certainly cannot," she rolled her eyes, distractedly hitting him in the stomach with the back of her hand, definitely _not_ noticing the hard muscle beneath his t-shirt. Well, at least that's what she told herself.

"Spoilsport," he pouted. "You're always ruining my fun."

"I don't know what you mean, I'm the life of the party," she protested. Tony arched an eyebrow. "You've never seen me drunk. In my twenties, when I broke up with Ron, admittedly I did find myself drinking more than I usually would and Ginny and Fleur would come out with me. Well, Gin's a bad influence and she'd get me drunk and when I woke the next day, somehow having found myself on George's couch or in bed with Ginny, Harry having been kicked out for the night, she was never shy on revealing the details on what I'd been up to."

"Oh?" He tipped his head curiously.

"Hmm, some of it I can't tell you without revealing too much, but... Storming the DJ booth and demanding they play a specific song and not leaving until they do, ordering a round of drinks for everyone in the bar, stealing a guy's shirt and refusing to give it back, and no night is complete without a bit of table dancing and a bruised coccyx from falling off the table."

Tony found himself staring in complete surprise and seeing his reaction, Hermione couldn't help the snigger that morphed into laughter, her eyes on the verge of watering.

"Dr. Granger!" Tony mock-scolded. "My, my, you are full of surprises, aren't you? I never took you as the table dancing type and that is definitely something I'd pay to see."

"There's a lot you don't know about me," she shrugged. "And unfortunately for you, my table dancing days are over. It only lasted a few weeks before I pulled myself together, I couldn't be done with the hangovers."

"Party pooper," he complained and she childishly stuck her tongue out. "So, you said some people don't need this conductor, and, activation code, was it? Are you one of those?"

"Sometimes, depends on the... ability," she paused, almost having revealed a little too much by naming it a spell or charm, and she saw Tony eye her curiously, obviously noticing her near slip up. "As I said, doing it non-verbally and without a conductor is easier when done separately, but when doing both, it's quite difficult but depending on my intentions, it requires little effort these days given how long I've been practising."

"I want to say that surprises me, but it doesn't."

"You're accomplished in your world, I'm accomplished in mine."

"Final question?"

"I thought that was your final question," she reminded.

"Changed my mind. Owls? What's the deal with the owl thing?"

"You might find this one a little weird, but, as a way of communication in my community, we write letters and owls are trained as messengers."

"Nah, nope, no way," he shook his head. "Don't believe you, there's not a chance in Hell you're telling the truth. Mind reading? Sure, you've proven that. Ghosts? What the hell, I've seen and heard stranger shit, and you swore on your Godkids' lives, so, yeah, awesome, they're real. But owls-turned-mail men? Think again, Granger, 'cause you can't fool this genius."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm being completely serious. Owls are not wild animals but are often trained and kept as... Pets, and messengers. Owls are incredibly clever; they can find anyone. All we do is write a letter, tie it to the owl and give the name of the recipient and off it goes."

"You banged your head on the car window during the drive, didn't you? I'll have Jarvis arrange for a doctor to meet us on the landing strip so they might check you over for concussion."

Hermione slapped his hand away as he made to reach for the earpiece on the bedside table so he might have Jarvis do exactly as he'd said.

"No, I haven't bumped my head," she gave him a none too pleased glance. "I swear on the existence of Jaffa cakes."

Tony gasped in horror. "How dare you put my favourite snack at risk?!. What's next? Flushing my Cheddars down the toilet? Throwing my Aero out the door? Spitting in my Vimto?"

"Don't be so dramatic," she rolled her eyes.

"Dramatic! How would you like it if I defiled your Hob Cob things?"

"Hob Knobs," she corrected.

He sniggered, "I know, I just wanted you to say it."

"Idiot," she grumbled under her breath. "And if you go anywhere near my Hob Knobs..." Tony sniggered once more. "I'll lick each and every one of the Jaffa cakes."

"Who's being childish now?"

A knock on the door sounded and they both turned towards it, it being pushed opened further to reveal Happy stood in the doorway.

"Yes?" Tony questioned.

"Nothing, Sir," Happy responded, "I just thought it best to intervene before things get out of hand," he explained, fighting off a smile. "Captain Hillard is adamant he could hear you in the cockpit."

"You're my bodyguard, you're paid to protect me," Tony pointed out.

"Sorry, Sir, but not from her," he nodded towards Hermione. "She terrifies me and I don't wish to lose my cookie privileges."

Hermione smiled smugly and Tony's eyes darted between them.

"That's fair," Tony begrudgingly agreed.

Once, Tony had wound Hermione up to the point where she flat out refused to bake him brownies and after three days of being brownie-free, he'd felt like crying and all but begged on his knees that she stop punishing him.

~000~000~000~

Almost an hour later, Happy knocked on the door once more, and not receiving a response, he knocked again before slowly pushing the door open and peering inside.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the bed, not only because it was the dominant feature in the room, but because in the centre of it lay Hermione and Tony, both soundly sleeping. Now, that wasn't something to get all excited or surprised about, rather, it was _how_ they were sleeping.

Tony lay on his back, one arm pillowed behind his head whilst the other had settled over Hermione's waist, holding her close to him whilst her cheek lay pressed to his chest, the glow of his arc-reactor shining through his t-shirt illuminating her peaceful, sleeping face. Her arm was thrown over Tony's stomach, her leg hooked over his knee and her hair all but suffocating him as he had his face turned towards her.

Happy blinked slowly, unsure that he was seeing what he was seeing or if it was just a figment of his imagination. It wasn't, it was real. Happy tilted his head a little, his eyes carefully examining the sleeping face of his boss.

Being employed by Tony for almost a decade, it was understandable that Happy had seen him in every way and state imaginable. But since his capture and the beginning of his alter ego Iron Man, Tony Stark suffered from nightmares, and it was one of the reasons the man avoided sleep and lived off caffeine, aside from the fact he was easily caught up in his projects, as well. If he didn't sleep then he didn't have to face his dreams. Happy had seen the effects the nightmares had on Tony; he'd seen the restlessness, the mood swings, the drinking... But he'd never seen him appear to be so peaceful.

Looking to Tony, his eyes were closed with nary a sign of movement beneath his eyelids, his forehead was smooth and free of creases, his lip didn't twitch or curve into a grimace, his breathing was slow and even and his body relaxed and calm.

He'd noticed a change in Tony since the arrival of Hermione. Being around them as often as he was, he'd seen how close the two had grown, he was witness to their friendship, to their admittedly amusing arguments and bickering, to their taking care of one another whether they realised they were doing it or not. He was witness to how they seemed to gravitate to one another when in the same room, he was witness to how protective Tony had become over Hermione.

And from someone on the outside, someone who saw them together frequently, he could see the subtle changes in their relationship. He could see the direction they were heading in. As much as he liked Pepper Potts, he hadn't liked her _with_ Tony. They were better off as friends, if they could call their relationship that. With their relationship there always seemed to be downfalls, but Tony and Hermione?

Well, since entering his life, Tony couldn't appear to be any happier.

Not wishing to disturb them, and really, there was no point in discussing what he had to share with his boss if he was sleeping, Happy slowly backed out of the room, wincing when his foot caught on the door.

"What is it?" Tony grumbled sleepily.

Happy lifted his wide gaze back to the bed, seeing his boss' eyes slowly peel open, completely unbothered by the fact that Happy had caught him and Hermione in such an intimate position, and clearly not making a move to fully wake or draw away from her.

Happy cleared his throat and adjusted his posture, standing tall.

"Sir, Captain Hillard wishes to inform you that there is to be a delay to arrival."

"Why?"

"He has been informed that an aircraft is having issues with their communications. Although there appears to be no problems with the craft itself, we are set to enter the same flight space. As a precaution and to prevent a potential collision, not that one is to be expected, he has been instructed to alter his flight plan."

"Delay?"

"Possibly ninety minutes, Sir."

"Okay," was the only reply he gave, his eyes closing sleepily and his nose burying in Hermione's wild hair.

"Would you like me to wake you before arrival, Sir?"

Tony hummed in response and Happy nodded once before backing out of the room and shutting the door over, being sure to leave it open a crack should the little white fluff-ball that was Hermione's cat wish to leave.

As he turned and headed back to his seat, Happy couldn't fight off the smile.

Tony and Hermione?

Happy wholeheartedly approved.


End file.
